


Right Out Of A Horror Movie Or Something

by CosmoKid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Attempted Murder, Cabins, Coffee Shops, Flashbacks, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Many a Cliche, Minor Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Minor Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Murder, Murder Mystery, Phone Calls & Telephones, Secret Relationship, Survivor Guilt, Texting, i guess, vine references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:18:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15201644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmoKid/pseuds/CosmoKid
Summary: “Jesus, Lyds, can we at least go for pizza if we’re meant to enjoy it?”She huffs and crosses her arms, and immediately Stiles knows he’s not going to win this argument. It’s high school all over again. “We’re being healthy and functional adults, remember?”“Right,” he affirms, trying to let as little doubt cloud his voice as possible and probably failing completely. “We’re pretending that Matt Daehler murdering half of our friends didn’t negatively affect our lives in any way and returning to Slasherville Central for the ten year anniversary of the murder spree doesn’t just scream bad idea.”It's been ten years since Matt Daehler cut a deadly path through Beacon Hills, leaving thirteen bodies in his wake. Stiles, one of the survivors known as the "Beacon Hills Seven", reluctantly returns for the ten year anniversary celebration, unaware that their return is about to spark a new set of slasher deaths. And to top it all off, he has to deal with the fact that his high school crush is back and being a hero like always.





	1. There are Certain Rules One Must Abide by in Order to Successfully Survive a Horror Movie

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the first Scream movie.
> 
> This is entirely inspired by the Scream movies and TV show because apparently I'm now Scream trash.

**05/31/2016**

The hustle and bustle of LAX is nearly enough to distract Stiles from the screaming memories running through his brain. It’s almost enough to distract him from the fact that this is possibly the worst idea that he’s ever heard.

He rubs his eyes and sighs. Damn Lydia for convincing him to come back. He scans the airport for the devil in question. She’s standing next to Danny right next to the exit, both looking impeccable in their outfit choices which is a direct contrast to Stiles who’s basically resorted back to his high school days with his baggy jeans and a comic t-shirt. Danny gives him a small wave and Stiles picks up his suitcase and heads over. 

“Good, you’re here,” Lydia says in greeting, immediately grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the airport before he can even process the fact that he’d gotten close enough to them for that to happen.

“Well, hello to you too Lydia,” he mutters but lets himself be dragged away. He shares a look with Danny which explains it all. They both know that when Lydia gets stressed, she just tries to organize everything and get it all done which often involves expecting everyone to follow her orders without question even non-verbal ones. Luckily, it’s only a short walk compared to his daily walk to work back in New York so he doesn’t complain.

She stops, as does Stiles by proxy, outside a sushi restaurant that looks to be the epitome of Lydia’s taste. He glances up at it and then across the street to a myriad of fast food outlets that he’d much rather be outside of.

“ _We_ ,” Lydia starts, turning around to look at the two men with a determined look on her face. Now that they’ve stopped walking, Stiles can see the dark circles lining her eyes. They match his. “Are going to go and eat sushi and we are going to enjoy it.”

He raises a single eyebrow at her. “Jesus, Lyds, can we at least go for pizza if we’re meant to enjoy it?”

She huffs and crosses her arms, and immediately Stiles knows he’s not going to win this argument. It’s high school all over again. “We’re being healthy and functional adults, remember?”

“Right,” he affirms, trying to let as little doubt cloud his voice as possible and probably failing completely. “We’re pretending that Matt Daehler murdering half of our friends didn’t negatively affect our lives in any way and returning to Slasherville Centre for the ten year anniversary of the murder spree doesn’t just scream bad idea.”

“Exactly,” Danny says and smiles grimly at him.

 

**A Month Earlier**

_“So you’re really going back?” Kira asks him, a worried look painted on her face. She leans against the kitchen counter, one eye on the toaster and the other on Stiles._

_He sighs and covers his face with his hands, staring at the free plane ticket that just came in the mail through his fingers. The new Mayor really seems to want him, and the rest of the Beacon Hills Seven, to come back for the ten-year memorial despite having previously been the high school counselor which suggests she might be aware of how that would negatively impact their mental health. “I don’t know, I might.”_

_“At least the plane ticket is free?” Kira offers just as the toast flies out and he jumps. His hands move automatically to a defensive stance which he tries to pass off as him wringing them nervously. Kira frowns at him before turning to the toaster and taking out the toast and a plate. “But seriously, if you’re not comfortable with going, just don’t. No one’s going to hold it against you.”_

_“Au contraire, my dear Kira. The Matt thing is the biggest thing to happen in Beacon Hills. It was completely sensationalized. The only way I managed to escape it was graduating early and moving across the entire fucking country and it still followed me here. This event is going to be just as sensationalized as the spree, and they’re promoting the strength thing. I really don’t need some edgelord on Tumblr telling me that I’m weak and disgusting for not going back,” he tells her._

_He knows it wouldn’t be_ that _bad, but he just can’t imagine reading those comments again. There were enough of them when he left the first time around. It didn’t do much to promote unity and strength, but at the same time, he was traumatized and hallucinating his dead girlfriend everywhere so it was a Catch 22 situation, not that random strangers on the internet understood that._

_Kira raises her eyebrows and nibbles on her toast in a somewhat judging manner. He rolls his eyes and sighs. She can see right through him which is probably a good thing considering she’s his best friend, but it still sucks half the time. He can’t lie to her._

_“You realize how many interviews I did at the time about how I’d moved on and how strong everyone was and how we weren’t going to let it ruin our lives, right? It wasn’t true, but I’d rather not be lambasted all over Twitter for being a hypocrite or whatever,” he explains rather hopelessly. It’s difficult to understand it if you haven’t lived it._

_“If you say so,” Kira murmurs, almost too quiet for Stiles to hear it. “Just don’t do something stupid and get yourself killed or whatever.”_

_He rolls his eyes again and lets a small smile grow on his face. “I’m not that unlucky that I get murdered now in the town I nearly got murdered in ten years ago. Cut me some slack here, Yukimura.”_

 

He’s nearing the end of his sushi plate and arguing with Danny about whether video games can lead to good movies or if producers should just shelve the idea of video game movies forever when Lydia’s phone dings despite being on vibrate the entire time they’ve been there and probably her entire life. 

“That was Cora,” she informs them, cutting into their conversation. Stiles rolls his eyes and eats one of his last bits of sushi. “Derek’s just arrived at the Hale house with his fiancée although Cora seems less than impressed with her.”

Stiles nearly chokes on his sushi at the word _fiancée_ , having completely forgotten about Jennifer Blake. 

“Oh don’t get all jealous now, Stiles,” Danny teases, pointing at him with his chopsticks that Danny is much better at using than Stiles will ever be despite neither of them holding a candle to Lydia. “Trust me, everyone is slightly in love with Derek Hale, especially now he has facial hair, but he’s taken and Kira is equally gorgeous.”

He stares at Danny for a few seconds, trying to connect the dots. “I’m pretty sure Derek and Jennifer are more than roommates if they’re getting married?”

The moment he asks it, he realizes that yeah, he and Kira do come across as boyfriend and girlfriend a lot. 

Danny cocks his head to the side and takes it in. “You know, I’ve never seen you two interact in person, but your Snapchat stories and Instagram suggest you’re a lot more than friends,” he defends but grins at Stiles good-naturedly.

“I don’t think her girlfriend would enjoy that,” he informs Danny who snorts and nods his head to concede. “Unlike the rest of you, I haven’t exactly had good luck in my love life. After a few disastrous relationships, I’ve kinda shelved dating for a couple of years.”

“Our Uber driver is here, by the way,” Lydia interrupts again, looking mildly disinterested in their conversation. She was Stiles’ ear for the first few years of bad romance before they drifted apart to be fair to her. She's already heard a lot of this. 

“She means her super hot ex-policeman boyfriend,” Danny whispers, leaning over to bump his shoulder with Stiles’. “Sadly, he doesn’t drive a Porsche, but he has a pretty solid car with no clear indication that he’s overcompensating for something.”

“That’s dark Māhealani, I kinda like it,” he says, trying to keep his voice from shaking at the prospect of going back to Beacon Hills. At least dark humor about the trauma of their friends dying isn’t new to him, it’s how he deals with it at this point. 

“It’s most definitely not what Jackson would have wanted, but he’d be glad we’re still talking about him ten years after his very public death,” Lydia says in a slightly strained voice. He can imagine it’s a little harder for her to joke about it since Jackson was her first love. “But anyway, on the off chance that Jordan is not who he says he is and is an ax murderer who picks his victims based on tardiness, I think it’s time for us to leave. The bill is already paid thanks to my lovely Mother and the many ways she bribed me to come back.”

With that, she pushes up from the table and looks at them expectantly. He takes a deep breath and follows her example. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”


	2. By the Time the First Body is Found, It’s Only a Matter of Time Before the Bloodbath Commences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from mtv scream (noah is an angel and i love him)

**06/01/2016**  
**07:36 AM**

“A Tall Pike Place Roast please?” Stiles asks, staring at the price through narrowed eyes. Lydia had said that this would keep him going for most of the day, but it seems a little expensive considering he only drinks coffee in his apartment in New York, making it much cheaper than the overpriced, over-complicated drinks at Starbucks. He’s genuinely perplexed by the complexity of that damn menu.

“Name?” the barista asks, looking exhausted and frankly like she’d rather gouge out her eyes than take another order. 

“Um, Stiles,” he replies, still fixated on the price even after he finishes paying and moves to the small area where you wait for a drink. It just seems a little bit too much for a small cup of coffee, especially when the small is called a ‘Tall’ for some reason. 

“Seems a bit expensive, doesn’t it?” someone asks from beside him and Stiles knows he visibly jumps. He laces his fingers together and turns to whoever it is, surprised to see a deputy standing next to him.

He starts to reply, but he’s interrupted by a pretty loud call for a “Kate.” He blinks, trying not to panic at the loud noise. He’s extra jumpy today. 

“A bit?” he asks, attempting to steady his voice so he doesn’t sound like a terrified meerkat. “I’d like to think I make a pretty good salary, but this seems a little out of my price range. Do people really buy at least one drink here a day?”

“Unfortunately,” the deputy replies and Stiles gets the feeling that the man does do that himself. He’d feel bad for potentially offending him if it didn’t seem like such an obvious financial error. “What’d you do for that salary then?”

“Oh, I uh work in game design, mostly story-based games, but I do some work in the odd-multiplayer games as well,” he tells the man. He shouldn’t be that surprised that someone wants to have a normal conversation, but the last time he was here, all people talked to him about was the murder spree so it is a pleasant surprise.

“Sounds pretty cool. Where’re you based? Anywhere near?” the deputy asks, smiling genuinely at Stiles who just nods. “I’m Theo, by the way.”

“Kali,” a barista calls out, talking over the end of Theo’s sentence so Stiles only just catches his name.

“We’re all the way in New York actually, I’m here on a visit to family,” he says, deciding not to reveal his name.

“Ah, didn’t think there were any companies like that in Beacon Hills,” Theo says and Stiles nods again. His voice is taking on a curious tone. “You’re one of the Seven, aren’t you?”

And there it is. It always comes up. He can’t ever escape it even if he tries. He doesn’t even look like he used to in high school and he doesn’t act like he did in high school and yet all that anyone ever asks him about is the murders.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking away from Theo and at the counter, hoping his drink will be done within the next three seconds so he can leave politely without wasting money.

“You use it for inspiration for your games?” Theo questions and Stiles knows exactly where this is going. It’s where it always goes, and it always leads to Stiles having another breakdown. _And it fucking sucks._

“Sometimes,” he says and wrings his hands out. He takes a deep breath and prepares himself. 

“What was it like? Facing off against The Hills Slayer? Seeing all those murders up close? It must have been like right out of a horror movie, right?” Theo continues to question and Stiles can feel his eye twitching.

He takes a deep breath and turns to face Theo. “No. It wasn’t… _fun_ or cool or… whatever. Most of them were my, my friends. It was horrifying.”

Theo opens his mouth to reply, but he’s interrupted by one of the workers calling out “Stiles.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, he heads straight up to the counter, takes the drink, says thanks, and leaves the shop without looking at Theo at all. This entire thing was a horrifically bad idea. Staring at the ground and gripping his coffee tightly, he walks out of the shop and right into another person, spilling burning coffee all over his hand. He blinks and looks up, immediately spluttering apologies until he realizes who it is. 

“Mrs. Reyes, hi,” he says in a hollow voice. She looks exhausted with stringy hair and black circles under her eyes. She looks much more than ten years older than last time he saw her. “How have you been?” 

She looks him up and down with hardened eyes and her nostrils flaring. “Don’t you dare talk to me like, like _that_. You killed my daughter.”

His eyes widen and he barely keeps hold of his cup. “Mrs. Reyes, please. I didn’t, I didn’t ki-, what happened to Erica wasn’t my fault.”

Taking a deep breath, he looks away from her, trying to focus on his breathing. This can’t be happening. Not again.

“She’d still be here if it wasn’t for _you_. My Erica…” Mrs. Reyes trails off, looking away. She doesn’t sound aggressive, just sad like there are no more tears to cry. “You shouldn’t be here. Death follows you.”

 

**06/02/2006**

_“Stiles!” Scott shouts, running into the room and grabbing onto him. He freezes, looking at the doorway of Lydia’s room where all his friends except for Erica are staring at him incredulously. He rolls his eyes, still mad at them._

_“What? Are you here to make fun of me again for thinking that Erica actually liked me and I wasn’t just some bet?” he scoffs, shaking Scott off him and glaring at them. “Where is she anyway? Asking someone else out on Laura’s orders?”_

_Laura glares at him as if he’s the one in wrong. He rolls his eyes, wishing he was back at home playing video games or something not heart-breaking._

_“The killer’s here!” Scott tells him hurriedly and Stiles freezes again, staring at Scott like he’s mad. Scott just nods frantically and shoves a phone at Stiles. Reluctantly, he takes it and places it next to his ear with shaking hands._

_“Hello Stiles,” is purred in his ear before he can even speak. Biting his lip, he glances around the room trying to see where the killer could be to see him put the phone to his ear considering they’re upstairs in Lydia’s house which has a backyard around the size of a small forest. “Do you see what I mean that you can’t trust your so-called friends? All they do is lie to you and leave you.”_

_He takes a deep breath as the words register in his ears. He glances around at the cluster of teenagers in the room, all of which have lied to him for months. “Yeah well they might be assholes, but they didn’t murder anyone so it’s not really much of an issue for me at the moment.”_

_“They all deserved to die,” the killer positively growls in his mind and an involuntary shudder runs down his spine. “Coach Lahey beat his sons for years and gave the swim team alcohol despite them all being underage.”_

_“So you’re a high school student with a slightly hypocritical moral compass,” Stiles says quickly, hoping someone in the room will take note of that. “What about the others? What did they do?”_

_“They were sinful and disgusting, just asking for someone to slit their throat and silence them forever,” the killer spits and Stiles has to hold the phone a little away from his ear. The words are angry and cruel. “Just like your little girlfriend. She cries so sweetly.”_

_“What? Where is she? What are you doing to her?” he asks immediately, gripping the phone tighter. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”_

_“Why? She didn’t care about hurting you?” the killer taunts in a mocking voice. His blood runs cold. “I won’t touch a hair on her head. My fireaxe on the other hand, I can’t make any promises on that.”_

_“Jesus, could you get more cliché horror movie villain?” he mutters and his voice is shaking. He can’t bear to look at the other people in the room who are all watching him in silence. “Where is she?”_

_“We’re just outside, waiting for you to let us in,” the killer says and Stiles can imagine them smiling creepily._

_”Move,” he tells whoever’s blocking the doorway, not even paying attention to who it is. They do move and he runs down the stairs without thinking and straight to the front of the house. He’s fairly certain he breaks the key in the door as he rushes to force it open. It slams against the wall and he runs out._

_He feels something on his foot as his eyes widen as he takes everything in. Erica’s sat on one of Lydia’s deck chair, bloody ropes securing in place. There’s a bloodier gag in her mouth and she’s crying out for him. There’s some kind of mechanism behind her and something metallic is shining in the sun._

_“Erica!” he calls out, running forward again._

_He stops in his tracks when blood splatters him. He blinks, watching an axe swing down and right through her body. He coughs, covering his mouth. Her intestines wrap around the axe and it swings back, tearing into her again. He wretches at the sight of it. He can see her heart beating frantically in her chest while blood pours out of her, pooling on the chair. She’s still struggling in her restraints and Stiles can hear the killer laughing on the other side of the phone._

 

He blinks, feeling his heart speed up in his chest. He can hear it in his ears. He barely reacts when Mrs. Reyes pushes past him and into the shop, just standing there staring. Taking another deep breath, he closes his eyes and tries again to focus on his breathing. 

_In and out, in and out, in and out, in and out._

He coughs and grabs at his phone in his pocket, yanking it out and fumbling to phone Kira. The phone doesn’t even ring before she answers.

“Stiles?” she questions, sounding confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for that ceremony thi-”

“I can’t do this, Kira,” he interrupts, sounding desperate and frantic. He clenches his eyes shut and leans against the nearest wall, trying not to vomit. “I can’t. I can’t be here. Not again.”

“Okay, just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” Kira asks in a soft voice barely louder than the sound of his heart thumping in his ears and Stiles complies. “Come on, just calm down a little. You don’t need to panic, everything’s fine. Just keep breathing and focus on my voice, okay?” 

It takes a few minutes of her talking him down before he can finally think straight without anxiety pooling in his stomach like the beginning of a tsunami. Being back here is just too much for him; everything seems to be a trigger. It’s like stumbling around in his own nightmare.

“I’m good, good, thanks Kira,” he murmurs, pushing himself off of the wall. “I just, I don’t want to be here. I can’t do it. It was a horrible idea and I just want to come home.”

“Okay, okay, that’s your choice, Stiles, but don’t you think it might be good to maybe get some closure? You could try to get to the end of the day and get the first flight out in the morning. You know, if you manage to spend a day there without anything bad happening or you panicking, it could help you,” Kira suggests and he frowns. He knows she has a point but getting out of this Hellscape immediately just sounds so appealing.

“I don’t know, I could just get a taxi to the airport and just buy a plane ticket and just get the hell out of here today,” he says in a small voice.

“Or you could get a taxi back to your Dad’s house,” Kira says. Stiles rubs his right eye and glances around the street. He barely recognizes it; there are so many new shops here that he’s never seen before. Beacon Hills did not have a Starbucks when he lived there.

“Stop making so much sense, Kira,” he groans. He leans against the wall again, glaring at the perky pet shop on the other side of the road. “You write code for a living, you’re supposed to make no sense.”

“Said the guy who’s currently making a game that’s basically the video game version of Donnie Darko or Mulholland Drive,” she says and Stiles rolls his eyes. It wasn’t really his choice to work on that game and Kira’s on the coding team for it as well. “But seriously, I’ve lived with you for five years now, Stiles. I know you and I know what might help you and I really want to help you. What you went through was a lot and it’s probably not going away any time soon, but maybe some exposure therapy might help.”

“Ooh fancy words, Miss Yukimura. Have you been watching psychology documentaries at two am again?” he asks in a teasing voice. She huffs and he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him.

“Shut up Sti-” she starts, but she stops abruptly. Stiles’ ears strain to hear the background noise on the other side of the phone. He can maybe hear Kira’s boss’ voice. “Apparently I’m meant to be working and not _consoling_ my _very fragile_ friend during a _traumatic_ event.”

Stiles snorts. “I’ll talk to you later, Kira.”

He brings his phone away from his ear, clicking it off just in time to hear Kira says “Peace out, girl scout,” in a ridiculously chirpy voice. He chuckles to himself and takes a sip of his coffee which is much cooler now. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he narrows his eyes as he answers it. He has no idea who else would be phoning him.

“Hello Stiles,” is purred in his ear and his blood runs cold. 

“If this is, if this is some stupid prank, I’d like to remind you that harassment is illegal,” he says, stumbling over his words. That voice is horrifying. He'd been promised that the voice changer used had been destroyed and all the copies removed from market.

“What makes you think it’s a prank, Stiles?” the voice asks, sounding far too charming. “Why can’t I be as real as Matt Daehler?”

“Because Matthew Daehler has been dead for ten years and it’s a disservice to the memory of the innocent people he murdered to pretend to be him just to mock one of the survivors,” he says, the speech sounding just as rehearsed as it is. The preparation for this trip involved a lot of coming up with replies in advance.

“Ten years in seven days,” the voice reminds him and Stiles sighs. This was a bad idea.

“Yes, well done, you figured out how anniversaries work. Keep up the good work and you might get past first-grade level maths within the year,” he tells the voice and he can practically feel the venom in his voice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish this call and ask the Sheriff Department to track this number on a harassment charge.”

“Oh, don’t do that, your friends will be gutted if you do,” the voice says in a sickly sweet voice. He pauses. That’s the exact type of thing Matt would say. 

“That’s a pretty uh, that’s a big threat you’re making there,” he says and his voice cracks. So much for being strong.

“Well, I can’t have you leaving town or involving the police now, can I?” the voice asks as if it’s a completely casual conversation.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if you are planning on murdering people, the police will probably get involved whether you want them to or not. It is their job.” He glances around the street, trying to see if there’s anyone on the phone nearby. Matt was always somewhere nearby when he phoned, even if they didn’t realize it or even when he used his secret cameras.

“By the time they find the first bodies, they won’t be able to do anything but watch the bloodbath in despair,” the voice taunts and Stiles rolls his eyes. This is some top notch cliché villain dialogue he could use in his games.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” he remarks, fidgeting with his hands. He can’t stand still when this is happening. He chews on his lips for a few seconds, before heading in the direction of his old house where his Dad still lives.

“What can I say? Confidence is sexy,” the voice tells him and Stiles shudders. This makes his skin crawl more than Matt’s calls had. Matt was a teenagers and looking back, his calls reflected that.

“Murder’s not,” he comments, speeding up his walking. “Phone sex is so outdated, you should get Skype so I can see your ugly ass face and report you to the police.”

With that, he ends the call and takes another sip of his now completely cold coffee. That was as much of waste of money as being here is a waste of time. Beacon Hills still fucking sucks.

 

**05:37 PM**

“I’m glad you decided to come back,” his Dad tells him, bumping their shoulders together in the crowd. Stiles nods, keeping his eyes trained on the stage where Mayor Morrell is giving some spiel about strength. “How was that Starbucks you insisted on getting although you could have just gone to Walmart to get coffee?”

“I didn’t end up drinking it,” he admits, relieved his Dad isn’t going to make him talk about being back. 

“Why not? That’s a waste of hard-earned money,” his Dad says. Stiles glances up at him to see a confused look on his face. He’s not sure if that’s not just from the idea of Starbucks in general; his Dad has never been one for coffee shops. Or maybe it’s Morrell’s speech or how the town hall has been decorated for this event. A blood-red curtain seems a little tone deaf.

“Uh um Kira phoned me when I got out and we talked so long, I forgot about it and by the time I got back to it, it was cold,” he says, trying to speak slow enough for it to not sound like a lie. He’s not technically lying anyway, just omitting certain truths.

His Dad hums and Stiles knows he’s missed the mark with his lie. Still, his Dad doesn’t pick him up on it, just lets it slide. He’s done that a lot more in the past few years, finally having learned that Stiles will lie sometimes and skip over some truths. It’s just a part of his recovery process that’s only just overstayed it’s welcome. It’s not going anywhere any time soon.

“Kira’s a nice girl,” his Dad starts and Stiles rolls his eyes and huffs.

“And a huge lesbian,” he reminds his Dad who rolls his eyes right back at Stiles.

“Okay, okay,” his Dad says, putting his hands up in defense. “I’m just sayi-”

“John Stilinski,” Morrell interrupts in a slightly louder voice, clearly aware that he and his Dad were not listening. It’s not like Stiles has to, he’s heard this possibly thousands of times and he’s sure his Dad has too, being celebrated as the heroic Sherriff even though he’s never claimed it himself.

The police didn't really do much back then, naming the wrong person as the killer and all.

His Dad pats Stiles’ shoulder and heads up to the stage where he’ll be commemorated again. He’s probably going to make a speech as well. Stiles was asked to, but he deflected it off to whoever agreed instead. Lydia offered for them to do some kind of joint speech on the last day instead which was much more appealing. And by more appealing, he means not appealing at all but at least he can get drunk on the way home and forget about it.

The space around him feels a little claustrophobic now that his Dad is gone. He can feel the stares of everyone around him, all of them judging him. He blinks and takes a deep breath. His shoulders are tensed and his lungs feel like they’re in a clamp. He can’t breathe all of a sudden. It’s all too much. He can’t be here. The room is closing in on him. He can't do it. He feels sick.

“Stiles, hey.”

He jumps, his heart hammering in his chest. He blinks again and turns to see who spoke. It takes him almost ten seconds to realize that it’s Isaac. He’s never seen the curly haired boy with stubble or glasses.

“Oh, hey Isaac,” he murmurs, trying to calm himself down and failing. Isaac smiles at him, resting an easy hand around his shoulders. It’s oddly comforting.

“You looked like you were having a bit of a panic,” Isaac says as an explanation for how he seemed to appear out of nowhere. “We’ve got to save the epic breakdown for at least the fourth day, you know. Dramatic timing is important.”

“You might need to give me some incentive for that,” he tells Isaac with an attempt at a crooked smile. Isaac just rolls his eyes and pats Stiles on the shoulder. 

“I’ll talk to Morrell about it, I’m sure she can figure something out,” he says, making a small gesture to the stage where his Dad seemed to have finished his short speech since Morrell is talking again. She never seems to shut up. Some things never change. “What did they offer you to get you back anyway?”

“Free plane tickets,” he replies. Isaac’s eyebrows rise and he frowns, looking surprised.

“Just plane tickets?” he asks. Stiles nods and shrugs. “Tell me they were at least first class?”

“I’m not a savage, Isaac. Of course, they were first class,” he confirms even though the first class element had no effect on the way there. The only reason he’d make the demand is for the way back just so he can drink to his heart’s content. 

“Good, good,” he says, squeezing Stiles. Normally, he’d feel far too awkward with someone doing this, but he doesn’t mind it right now. Possibly because he knows Isaac understands what he went through because he went through it too. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops and motions to the stage.

“Now, I’d like to welcome to the stage, the real survivors in this town, the Beacon Hills Seven,” Morrell is saying and Stiles sighs. He knew this was coming, but it’s still not what he wants to do today. Isaac practically drags him up to the stage while Morrell continues to speak, “Cora Hale, Danny Māhealani, Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski.”

When he gets to the stage, he immediately takes the spot furthest away from the middle. Morrell and the other organizers had strongly suggested they stand in a certain order on the crosses they’ve taped on the stage, but Stiles took no notice of it. He has no idea where they want him to stand and he doesn’t really care either. Lydia is stood next to him despite looking much better presented in a light blue shirt with a sequined collar and a black pencil skirt compared to Stiles’ black skinny jeans and a white shirt.

It’s formal enough. 

He glances around him. Danny is standing next to Lydia in khakis and a formal shirt with an actual tie, unlike Stiles. Isaac’s next to him and Stiles is only now noticing that he’s wearing a waistcoat and a scarf even though it’s June. He tries to control his face to not show his confusion and looks over to where Cora is standing, looking uncomfortable in a black maternity dress. Next to her is Derek and he looks far too good.

Stiles has always found Derek far too attractive, even when he was dating Erica. There was just something about the older boy that Stiles had fallen in love with and had never really fallen out of love with. It was more of the fact that he hasn’t seen Derek in ten years and had no idea if he was even alive until the whole ten year anniversary came up. He looks just as good as he did in high school, even more so now that he has a beard. Danny was completely right about the facial hair thing. Derek even looks well-presented now in well-fitted formal pants and a grey shirt.

He tears his eyes away from Derek and tries not to focus too much on the fact that Scott isn’t here. It's not like he wasn’t expecting him to be; Scott never seemed to get over what happened. He cut everyone off even though Stiles was his best friend for years beforehand. They haven’t talked in years. 

It sucks. It’s why he’ll never be able to jump on the strength and unity bandwagon because maybe the rest of the town managed to move on, but most of the real survivors never did. Morrell can go on about the success and prosperity of the town and how they have a bike path and economic growth all she wants, but nothing changes the fact that what happened was fucked up and you don’t just get over it like it was a bad Tuesday or something. It plagues his nightmares still and bleeds over to his daily life constantly.

“And now, one of our survivors would like to make a small speech about the events and how we, as a whole, have moved on and how positive the future will be,” Morrell says, ending one of her many spiels. It’s an odd choice of wording to describe their situation. “Please give a warm welcome home to Derek Hale.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rise without his permission. He was not expecting Derek to be the one to make the speech. He was never one for public speaking in high school even when he was the valedictorian at graduation. 

Derek acknowledges the welcome with a nod and approaches the microphone stand, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Hi,” he says in a small voice that’s already shaking. Stiles frowns and fiddles with the curtain behind him, feeling awkward for Derek. “Morrell has asked me to uh come up here and talk a little about the history of the town and um what this whole memorial is for... as a way to inform the people here who might not know too much about it. Especially the younger peo-”

A loud thud interrupts Derek who jumps. He spins around and Stiles stares at him for a few seconds before turning to where the noise came from. He blinks. The curtain is gone. The fifteen-foot high curtain is gone. It’s pooled at their feet. The stench hits him next. He clenches his eyes shut and turns away hugging himself. He knows that smell. 

His eyes open when his stumbling steps finds something to grab onto. It’s Danny whose holding him just as tightly. He looks around, seeing Isaac comforting Cora and steering her away from a pool of vomit, and Derek whose frozen. The microphone seems to fall in slow motion until it hits the floor and a loud crackling noise goes over the speakers.

“Why isn’t anyone doing anything?” Lydia says in a high pitched voice and Stiles finally forces himself to look at the two dead bodies behind the curtain. It’s a mess of blood, guts and severed limbs, but the horrified looks on their faces are clear.

 

**07:14 PM**

“That was unexpected,” Danny says in a small voice. Stiles looks over at him, shifting in his seat. 

The chairs put out for the ‘people of interest’ are hard, plastic and uncomfortable. They’ve mostly been dragged into small family units with even Lydia leaving Danny and Stiles alone to sit with her Mom. He’d rather be with his Dad right now to be fair to her and he’s sure Danny would too, but his Dad has been taken into the new Sheriff’s office for advice and Danny’s parents relocated to Hawaii a few years after the events. 

“Unexpected is an interesting word for it. I’d prefer to use horrifying or even nostalgic,” he replies, rolling his eyes at Danny who just shrugs. Their reaction is far too casual for having just seen two dismembered teenagers and he hates thar. He bites his lip for a few seconds before lowering his voice and saying, “Besides, it’s not that unexpected. I got a phone call from someone using that voice changer outside Starbucks this morning, threatening to gut you guys if I left town or told the police.”

“That could just be a coincidental prank,” Danny remarks, but he doesn’t sound convinced. They’ve all gotten that prank before, but never the morning of another murder.

“Or it’s happening again,” he whispers and Danny just looks at him with a sad expression on his face. He wraps an arm around Stiles and squeezes.

“How long do you think this questioning is going to take because there are far too many people in this room?” Danny asks, diverting the conversation before it gets too dark. He knows what Danny is doing, but he doesn’t mind.

“Probably far too long and it’s already getting stuffy in here,” he says, doing a mental count of how many people are in the room and giving up after he gets to ten. He doesn’t recognize any of the teenagers in the room anyway, apparently them being the victim’s friends. He’s not sure why their parents aren’t there except the possibility of there just not being enough room in the reception area of the sheriff station. 

He’s sure that the parents are on call, at least. The town can’t be that careless considering there was a murder spree ten years ago that they had to have learned from.

“Why are we even here?” Cora interjects from the other side of the room, one hand on her stomach and the other holding Isaac’s. Despite that, she still manages to look threatening. “I don’t know anything about whatever happened. None of us even wanted to be there.”

“They probably think we have some insight to give or something equally ridiculous,” Lydia says, smoothing out her skirt and pursing her lips. She flips her hair over her shoulder and glares at the door.

“What insight are we meant to give?” Cora asks and gets a few shrugs in response. None of them really know why they’re there. They didn’t know the victims, having only learned their names twenty minutes ago; Tracy Stewart and Josh Diaz.

“There are too many people in this room,” one of the various teenagers in the room says and stands up. It’s the sole girl who looks a little like Selena Gomez. “I need some fresh air.”

“It’s probably better to not isolate yourself from the group,” Stiles remarks without really meaning to. He just doesn’t want anyone going off alone because that’s how they got killed last time. Splitting up makes the killer’s job so much easier. 

“Don’t listen to him, Hayden. These guys are nuts,” one of the other teenagers says, rolling his eyes. He’s got bright blue eyes, spiky hair, and a baby face, and Stiles wants to protect him too much on instinct to even be annoyed by his apparent lack of manners. “What’s going to happen if she goes outside alone? Is she going to breathe in some murder particles or something?”

Stiles’ eyebrows furrow. He has no idea what that actually means, but it’s vaguely shaped like an insult.

“Hey, we’ve lived through this, okay?” Derek says in a steady voice. Stiles smiles at him and Derek nods. It’s nice to know that they’re still all ready to defend each other immediately even after ten years. That’s the one thing they could all depend on after the first spree.

“Yeah and paranoia is a symptom of PTSD,” the kid retorts immediately as if six survivors of a murder spree wouldn’t be aware of the most common symptoms of PTSD.

“Paranoia about what? The very real murderer who just murdered your friends?” Derek asks and Stiles can see all of the teenagers flinch. It must not have sunk in yet for them. It takes a while.

“They weren’t my friends,” the kid says in a small voice and Stiles knows what the response means. It was a response he’d say a lot to his counselors to make it hurt less.

“You say that now,” he murmurs and he sees Danny nod in the corner of his eye.

“Whatever, I still need fresh hair. I’ll be right back,” the girl, apparently named Hayden, says, crossing her arms. Stiles frowns but he doesn’t react verbally, letting her leave the room. Yelling at her won’t do anything other than turn him into he condescending adult he hated as a teenager. 

It’s silent for around half a minute before one of the teenagers speaks up, “Where’s Nolan?”

“Which one of you is Nolan?” Cora asks in a cutting, bitter voice. 

“White, brown hair, baby face?” the kid from earlier offers. Stiles frowns, confused by how anyone could think that was a suitable description for trying to identify someone.

“Kid, that describes you and him,” Cora says, pointing at the other kid who’s huddled up with another boy, both of them looking horrified. “Can you describe him any better?”

“He’s a little shifty-looking?” the kid offers again and Cora just rolls her eyes. It’s very clear that none of them have a clue who Nolan is and when he left. Stiles hadn’t even counted how many teenagers were there so he wouldn’t have noticed.

“He looks a little like Toby on Pretty Little Liars,” one of the other boys, the one with dark skin, offers and Stiles can’t help snorting. It’s a better description than the other kid’s, but it’s just odd-sounding. It would be helpful if Stiles had watched the show, but it was a little too familiar for him.

“I’m sure he’s fi-” Lydia starts, but she’s interrupted by a blood-curdling scream that makes them all freeze. Not again, it can’t be happening again.

“Come on,” Danny mutters to him and drags him up. Stiles follows him almost in a trance, barely aware of everyone else following them out the door to try and find where the scream is. The loud-mouthed kid pushes past them, nearly knocking Stiles off the stairs.

“Hayden! Hayden! Where are you? Hayden!” the kid shouts, thundering down the stairs. The rest of them follow at a slower pace. It doesn’t matter. The streetlight illuminates her body well enough to see from where they are, her bloody intestines glistening in the light.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Isaac murmurs from behind him, the breath hitting the back of his neck. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Stiles knows exactly what it is. He sighs, fishing it out. He doesn’t want to see it, he doesn’t need to be mocked by a new killer. Taking a deep breath, he unlocks his phone and opens the message from the unknown number.

_It’s never a good idea to say that you’ll be right back, but you already know that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me half an hour to figure out how starbucks orders work so appreciate that one line.  
> also i have no idea how game design so im v sorry for any errors


	3. Déjà Voodoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from scream 3 and im gonna like pretend that scream 3 is not an abomination...
> 
> and also this chapter is so dialogue heavy and like that was not my plan how did this happen like can you even be an active writer or do you just go along with whatever happens in the story like greenburg showed up and i was like oh cool hes in the story now okay
> 
>  
> 
> READ THIS ONE BIT OF THE NOTE PLEASE  
> There is reference to school shootings here. There's no description of one or a specific one reference, moreso characters criticizing the fact that they happen. But this is a trigger warning for school shootings just in case.

**06/02/2016**  
**11:47 AM**  
“Hey, do you guys remember when Stiles used to work here and would get _all_ of our orders wrong literally _every single time_ we came in?” Isaac asks, an almost giddy smile on his face. He takes a sip of his Frappuccino and looks around at all of them on the sofas.

Stiles finds himself doing the same thing. For anyone who doesn’t know what they’ve all got in common, they look like a ragtag group who are being forced to sit together. Especially since they’re in a local coffee shop that’s been hipsterfied since Stiles worked here in the mid-2000s.

“Back when we used to call Allison over to fix all the orders and he’d pout like a four-year-old as she did the cool foam art before it was cool?” Lydia asks, smoothing over her dress and bumping her shoulder against his.

“I’d rather not remember it to be honest,” he says in a quiet voice and sips his hot chocolate. He lowers his voice when he starts speaking again, “Matt used to uh, he used to be here a lot. I just thought he was lonely back then. I’d try talking to him and you know, I thought he wanted a friend or something… And now I know he was just obsessed with Allison and was planning to fucking murder us all.”

“Well, that’s depressing,” Lydia says in a curt voice which tells him that this conversation is now ended. She’s just as bossy as she was in high school which is oddly reassuring.

“I mean, we’re all trapped in Murdersville because it lived up to his name and apparently we’re potential suspects so I don’t think there’s anything not depressing about this situation,” Danny remarks and Stiles makes a weak cheers motion to him.

“Half the people in the town think we’re death omens or something, bringing death to their little town,” Cora adds and everyone nods. Stiles frowns, upset that they’ve all had that experience.

“I’m getting stupid phone calls and texts from either a copycat killer or some sick-in-the-head prankster,” he murmurs, spinning his cup slowly on the table with his eyes trained on it. “Who apparently knows the Matt case well enough to send me an anniversary text of Erica’s death and also has a photo of her to text me too because the anniversary text alone wasn’t enough.”

“Everyone seems to think we’re all super paranoid and like we’ve gone mad for being cautious even though three people are very much dead and very much not coming back,” Isaac comments, his voice much less energetic than earlier. 

“Banner ads are being sold on HuffPo about how the Hills Slayer is back and mouthbreathers on Reddit are theorizing how Matt could still be alive,” Lydia adds, sipping her latte. She flips her hair over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. “All of them obsessing over and idolizing the guy who tried to _kill_ us.”

“Someone was murdered right outside the police station and the only suspects are the people who were inside which includes us and that one teenager who was missing who no one can find,” Derek says and huffs quietly. He didn’t order a drink, just asking for a glass of tap water.

“And Morrell is still insistent on continuing with her anniversary celebration which was a bad idea from the beginning,” Danny concludes with a grim smile on his face. “Seriously, who celebrates a murder spree?”

“Not Scott apparently,” Lydia says, glancing deliberately at the empty chair in their little sofa area. It’s the only empty seat. He’s not sure if they chose a seven-seater area on purpose or if it was an accident. “Do you think he’ll show his face this week?”

“I doubt it,” Isaac says and sighs. He laces his fingers together and leans forward. “He uh phoned our crisis hotline two months ago, maybe. On a coincidence of epic proportions, he managed to somehow be partnered with me. I’m still surprised he didn’t just hang up immediately, but he didn’t… for some reason and we talked a little. I don’t think he ever recovered, really. Like it’s not really something you just recover from, but he seemed to have been stuck in the denial stage for the past ten years.”

“Well, we’ve all been there,” Stiles offers weakly. “When that kid yesterday said that they weren’t his friends, it was like a direct flashback to my earlier counseling sessions.”

“So we can cross off Scott as a potential victim or suspect no matter how suspicious that coincidence is,” Lydia says in a very matter of fact way. Stiles’ eyebrows rise and he glances at her. She seems very well-polished and unaffected, but he can see the chaos behind her eyes.

“Scott’s not sneaky enough to have killed the girl from last night anyway,” Cora points out. Stiles frowns, trying to figure out her logic. She shrugs at all their confused looks. “I’m assuming he still has the prosthetic leg and he was never light-footed before the explosion at Deaton’s. You could always hear him in the corridor after, it wasn’t super noticeable, but we would have heard him if it was him.”

“That’s a good point,” Isaac agrees, knocking his knees into Cora’s. She side-eyes him but smiles at him the same time. “Besides, I think not blaming the other people here… physically or in spirit is a good idea. We all know what might happen if we do that.”

He can feel the air around them heighten. None of them know what to say to that. They all know what Isaac is referencing, but there’s no easy way to respond. Stiles swallows and lifts his cup up so he can finish his drink, avoiding eye contact with anyone even though he’s sat directly opposite Derek and they’re basically the same height. In the corner of his eye, he sees Lydia smooth her skirt out again and Danny flick the lid of his coffee cup.

“Hi, can I collect any of your empty cups?” 

They all jump when they hear it. Stiles takes a deep breath and places his now empty cup back on the table. It’s a little irritating that pretty much everyone in town knows they’ve survived a murder spree, but don’t ever realize that not approaching carefully is not a good idea. It’s lucky none of them screamed or made a larger fuss.

“Thanks,” the waiter says in a quiet voice and Stiles finally glances up at him when he recognizes the voice. It’s only after he reads his nametag that he realizes he’s one of the kids from last night and apparently named Mason.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Isaac asks before anyone else can say anything. Stiles can hear his crisis counselor voice taking over even if he’s never heard it personally.

“Uh… not good, not good at all really,” Mason admits and the stack of cups he’s holding shakes in his hand. Stiles sees him tighten his grip on it as his eyes widen slightly. “How do you uh how do you deal with all _this_ without just breaking down because I’m trying to not do that? Like I’m trying to keep busy and not think about it but uh they’re dead. Really dead. And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You don’t,” Lydia says immediately. Mason bugs out, staring at her with furrowed brows. She rolls her eyes as if her statement doesn’t need explaining. “Look, you’re going to have breakdowns about this. We’ve all had them. You don’t come out of this unscathed. Don’t try to be just okay, let yourself be vulnerable and talk to other people about it. Trying to keep busy and ignoring it won’t work.”

“Yeah, honestly, one of the most important things is to stay close with your friends. You’re going through this together and you’re going to need each other, you’ve got to stick together,” he adds and frowns. He glances around to everyone on the table, remembering exactly how he did not do that in any way at all.

None of them did. 

“And don’t be afraid to seek professional help,” Danny says a little too quick as if he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking. “Counselling is actually pretty cool.”

“Right,” Mason says, sounding entirely unsure and as if they’re all mad. They might be. “Thank yo-”

“Mason, get back to work! I pay you to serve coffee not chat with customers!” someone interrupts, yelling far too loud for how small the coffee shop is. His old boss used to do the exact same thing to him although never to Allison.

The boy in question nods at them and turns away, moving back to the kitchen. “Okay, Greenburg.”

If Stiles still had his drink, he would have spat it out. Instead, he splutters and coughs to try and hide his laughter. “Greenburg works here? Greenburg owns this coffee shop?”

“Greenburg has a more stable job than me?” Danny asks and lets out a bark of shocked laughter. He runs his hand through his hair and stares incredulously at the counter where they can see Greenburg messing with the till.

“Greenburg has a better sense of style than me?” Cora questions, looking slightly gleeful. She laces her fingers together in front of her and glances back and forth from Greenburg and the rest of them.

“Hey, you’re stuck in maternity clothes, it’s not like you have much choice,” Isaac says, wrapping an arm around Cora who just rolls her eyes. Her style doesn’t appear to have changed at all since high school. “Really, it’s more of Greenburg has a better sense of style than Derek.”

Derek glares at Isaac and rolls his eyes as he speaks very matter of a fact, “Isaac, you’re wearing a scarf and a shearling jacket in June.”

“You wear sweater vests to work,” Isaac shoots back, raising his eyebrows at Derek.

“I’m a history teacher in Washington,” Derek defends and Isaac just rolls his eyes and huffs.

“That does not mean you’re able to dress like a hipster grandpa and get away with it,” Isaac tells him and Derek just crosses his arms and rolls his eyes _again._ “Honestly, what does Jennifer think about how you dress?”

Derek opens his mouth to defend himself again, but he’s interrupted by someone talking behind them. Stiles jumps again and sighs at his own jumpiness.

“Is Daniel Māhealani here?” someone asks and Stiles immediately recognizes it to be the cop from yesterday. He doesn’t turn around to face Theo, glaring at the table between them instead.

“That would be me,” Danny says and does turn around. “Any particular reason for your interest in me, officer?”

“We need you back at the station,” Theo says simply as if he expects Danny to just get up and leave with him. Lydia huffs beside him, looking frustrated.

“That’s a bit vague,” Danny remarks. He crosses his arms, mirroring how Derek is still sitting. “I think I need a bit more information before I agree to go off with a strange man I don’t know.”

It takes every bit of self-control in Stiles to not make the obvious joke.

“This a police matter,” Theo says in a far too serious voice. It sounds a little like that he’s trying to make his voice deeper than it is. “It’s essential that you come with me.”

“Are you trying to poorly replicate the Milgram experiment? Because that’s exactly what you sound like right now. Can we have some more information as to why you require Danny at the station?” Isaac asks, raising his eyebrows at Theo.

“This is a police matter,” Theo repeats, his voice just as fake deep as early.

“Yes, the presence of a police officer indicated that. You still haven’t told us what you want with Danny,” Lydia points out and pushes her hair behind her shoulder and turns to look at Theo. Stiles joins her, glaring at him alongside her.

“I am a man of the law and I expect you to obey me,” Theo says, still not answering the question.

“I’d be happy to go with you if you’d tell me why,” Danny says and smiles brightly at Theo who just glares at him.

“This is a police matter. Three people are dead,” Theo says and Stiles rolls his eyes. It appears that the police have learned nothing from last time. Joyful.

“Yes, we were there if you forgot. It’s not like it happened right outside where you work or anything,” Lydia reminds him and clasps her hands out in front of her. “ _And_ you still haven’t told us what you want with Danny.”

“He’s wanted for questioning,” Theo says shortly, glaring around at them all.

“For what?” Cora questions, glaring straight back at Theo and looking at least a thousand time more threatening.

“Danny wasn’t in town when the first two victims were killed, and both Lydia and I can attest to that since we were with him in LA at the estimated time of death we were told by the police,” Stiles says.

“And there are numerous people who can tell you that Danny was sitting in the Sherriff Station waiting to be questioned when the third person was killed,” Lydia adds, knocking her shoulder against Stiles’.

“And Danny doesn’t even know the prime suspect,” Derek points out and Theo just sighs.

“Sherriff Graeme would like to see him,” Theo says almost robotically. “Will you please come with me to the station?”

Danny rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath. He stands up, still fake-smiling at Theo. “Fine, I’ll come with you for whatever questions you have, but I won’t hesitate to call my lawyer at the first sign of it being suspicious, which reminds me, I’m going to phone my lawyer before we head off..”

 

**06/01/2006**  
_“Mr. Stilinski, please come in,” Miss Morrell tells him with a fake-looking smile on her face. He regards her for a few seconds before reluctantly entering the guidance counselor's office. He’s spent far too much time discussing murder in this office._

_He lets her direct him to a chair and smiles genuinely at Tara who waves at him before gesturing at her uniform, probably to tell him that she’s Deputy Graeme today. Scratching his nose, he just manages not to roll his eyes. She was practically Aunty Tara to him when he was younger with how much time he used to spend at the police department when his Mom was out of town for treatment. She’d help him with his math homework and sometimes read to him._

_“I apologize for your Father being missing here, we’d prefer the Sheriff to be here, but there’s a more pressing matter at the station,” the deputy next to her says. He’s unfamiliar to Stiles which is a rare occurrence. “We just want to ask you some questions about the deceased.”_

_Stiles nods. “I gathered that by the fact that you’re interviewing every student in the school the day after they were killed.”_

_Tara coughs and Stiles knows she’s hiding her laugh which makes him feel a little better about it all. The other deputy doesn’t look nearly as amused since he’s scowling down at his notepad._

_“Did you know Brett and Lori Talbot well?” he asks, clearly attempting to brush past the last few seconds. Stiles rolls his eyes and glances around the room, tapping his foot._

_“I knew them, but not well really,” he says, biting his lip. He can feel the pressing gaze of all three adults in the room. “I sit by… _sat_ by Lori in English, and Brett was the co-captain of the lacrosse team. I haven’t really ever spoken to either of them, but they seemed nice.”_

_“Do you know of any enemies they might have had?” the deputy questions as soon as Stiles stops talking. He tenses, feeling oddly threatened by this man._

_His eyebrows furrow and he looks questioningly at Tara who just shrugs. “No? Who has enemies? We’re high school kids. And besides, I already told you, I didn’t know them well. Why would I know if they had any enemies?”_

_The deputy hums and writes something down. Stiles narrows his eyes at it, wondering what he could possibly be writing about. Stiles hasn’t exactly given him any information because he doesn’t know anything about them. It sucks that Brett and Lori were killed, but he can’t really help solve it._

_“Do you think there are any links between the incident last night and your Mother’s murder last year?” the deputy questions and Stiles just stares at him._

_“Haigh!” Tara scolds before Stiles can reply. Miss Morrell coughs, heading toward the door as if to open it. “That is highly inappropriate and we already ruled this out at the station this morning. There was no reason to ask that question.”_

_“No, you ruled it out. I still think there could be a link,” Haigh protests stubbornly. Stiles bites his lips and digs his nails into his palm. Did he really have to bring that up?_

_“Still, you shouldn’t have asked that Haigh,” Tara tells him, glaring at Haigh’s face. “You can go now, Stiles. There’ll be no further questions.”_

 

“Does Danny even have a lawyer?” Isaac asks when the door swings shut after Theo. 

“In Massachusetts,” Lydia answers and Stiles grins. He knows Danny will string Theo on with this lawyer thing for a long ass time even if his lawyer is on the other side of the country.

“Why is it just Danny?” Cora asks, staring at the door as if more deputies are going to come in and take the rest of them away. “Has Danny done anything at all that the rest of us haven’t? There’s no reason to just ask for Danny and not the rest of us.”

“Danny’s staying at my house, and we spent all of yesterday together. There isn’t anything that Danny has done since we got into town that I haven’t done,” Lydia agrees and lays her hands flat on her knees. “Unless it’s something to do with computers, there’s no reason for Danny to be asked for.”

“Maybe that deputy was just being creepily thorough?” Derek suggests, his gaze looking at the table. Stiles scratches his nose and tries not to stare at him.

“That deputy is creepy in general,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “He started a conversation with me in Starbucks yesterday and within like maybe a minute, he started asking about the Matt thing. Like it was super creepy and it sounded like he thought it was some really awesome thing and like… fun or something. It was so weird.”

“He and Matt used to be the only members of the film club in high school,” Lydia informs them and Stiles frowns. He wasn’t even aware there was a film club at BHHS.

“And he’s been creepily friendly since we moved back here. I just thought maybe he was obsessed with pregnant people or something, maybe he really wanted to be the Godfather, I don’t know. I’ve gotten used to people being weird around me,” Cora adds, looking very suspicious. Her eyes are narrowed and she looks a little scared. 

“I’m not saying he and Matt might have worked together the first time around and he’s finishing the job now, but I’m not not saying that’s a possibility,” Lydia says smoothly, and pulls her hair up into a messy bun expertly in a very short amount of time. Stiles watches her, a little hypnotized by it.

“You always said that it was too much work for one person,” Isaac says, talking solely to Stiles. He nods, not sure what else to say. Everyone already heard his rants back in the immediate days after the event.

“Why would he wait ten years though? Why wait that long? Why not carry on his work immediately?” he asks in a quiet voice, not wanting the reality of the situation to set in.

“Why kill someone at all? Why become a murderer?” Isaac asks in response and Stiles shrugs. It’s a good point; none of them can get in the head of killers. “Didn’t you study criminology?”

He sighs. He forgot that they’d all be under the impression that he did go on to study that. He takes a deep breath and looks out the window as he speaks, “I tried to. Didn’t last long. It was hard to… it was hard to deal with it. I was just… I don’t know. It was like navigating a maze of triggers and I just couldn’t do it. I switched to game design pretty quickly.”

It’s silent for around twenty seconds as everyone takes it in, all avoiding looking at Stiles. The silence is broken by Derek’s phone vibrating on the table. He glances down at it, sighs, and flips it over so he can’t see the screen. The phone doesn’t stop vibrating; whoever’s phoning doesn’t seem to want to give up. Derek glares down at it as if that could stop the ringing alone.

“Just answer it, Der,” Cora says after the sixth consecutive missed call. Derek rolls his eyes, glaring at his sister.

It rings another time before Derek finally picks up the phone, looking very angry as he answers it. “Hey, Jennifer.”

Stiles attempts to control his facial expressions, but it’s a lot harder than he expects when he hears Derek’s fiancée practically shrieking on the other side of the phone. Lydia coughs next to him and he catches her eye. 

“No, Jennifer, no I’m not,” Derek starts, but he gives up and Stiles hears the voice get higher. He wipes his mouth to try to hide any emotion showing. It’s another thirty seconds before Derek can speak again. “No, no, I don’t want to call off our engagement. Why would I want to do that?”

The shrieking voice cuts him off again and Derek just pulls the phone away from his ear to sigh and leans back against the sofa. It takes an equal amount of time for Derek to have the chance to speak again. “Okay, okay, okay honey. I’ll be right there. Love you.”

Derek ends the call before Jennifer start shrieking again and picks up his jacket, standing up with another sigh. “I’ve got to go, I’ll see you guys later.”

“Your date isn’t for another half an hour,” Cora points out and Derek just raises his eyebrows at her as he makes his way out of their seating area.

“She likes it when I’m early,” he says simply, but Stiles can hear the pain behind his voice and he knows that if he looked close enough, he’d be able to see the pain behind Derek’s perfectly controlled face. 

They all sit in silence as Derek leaves with Cora looking very angry as she watches her brother head towards the door. It hasn’t even closed when she starts speaking again.

“Oh my fucking God, I hate that fucking woman so much. Why the fuck is he engaged to her? She’s fucking mental,” she growls, gripping the sofa with one hand with white knuckles. Isaac rubs her shoulder, glancing at her nervously. “Jesus fucking Christ, I preferred it when he was secretly dating Kate Argent.”

“Secretly dating who now?” Lydia asks incredulously next to him. She leans forward, looking like she’s just heard the Oprah Winfrey is making a guest appearance at Morrell’s farewell party at the end of the week.

“Kate Argent. He thought dating a college girl in senior year made him super mature,” Isaac answers, looking disturbed by the memory of it.

“She was in the last year of law school at that point, after taking two separate gap years. That wasn’t a high school senior dating a college girl, that was an adult taking advantage of a high school kid,” Lydia says, practically spitting the words out. 

“Are they in town for the memorial?” he asks quickly, trying to divert the conversation. It feels wrong to talk about this without Derek being there even if he’s just as angry as Lydia. “Allison’s family, I mean.”

“I’ve seen Chris at the gym,” Cora tells him, still looking very angry. “And Kate seems to be at the hairdresser's every single time I go in, no matter which one I go to. I think their Dad might be in town too, but I’m not sure.”

“Isn’t he that guy who had a sword and gun collection and is rumored to have purposely killed any pets that wandered into his property?” he asks, trying to remember anything else about Gerard Argent. It might be helpful if he hadn’t blacked out most of high school from his memory.

“That’s the one,” Isaac says and makes a finger guns motion at Stiles who just stares at him blankly, wondering when Isaac had become that lame. “They all moved away after… you know. I guess they moved back at some point.”

Stiles opens his mouth to reply, but feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He fishes it out and sees that it’s his Dad. “I’m going to take this outside, I’ll be right back.”

As he walks out of the shop, he runs what he said in his head and realizes that he said exactly what he shouldn’t say. He rolls his eyes at himself and clicks accept on the phone to stop thinking about it. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey son,” his Dad replies immediately, sounding concerned. Stiles frowns, wishing again that this week had gone a much different way. “Tara’s asked me to come into the station to talk about similarities between what happened before and now. I’m not sure how long it will take so can we push dinner back a little?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he murmurs, leaning against the wall between the two windows of the coffee shop. “Did she mention anything about Danny? One of the deputies came and asked him to come in for questioning earlier.”

His Dad doesn’t reply for a few seconds and Stiles can imagine him having a furrowed brow and him looking over his recently acquired glasses. “She didn’t mention anything about him specifically, but she said something about not wanting to badger you guys. I don’t see any reason why they’d need Danny at the station. Who was it you said who took him in?”

He decides not to mention he hadn’t named any names so he can avoid the awkward talk about how Stiles knows no one in town anymore. “I think he said his name was Theo.”

“Theo Raeken,” his Dad says immediately and Stiles can hear him going through something in the background. “He became a deputy a year ago or so, maybe a month before I retired. I wasn’t completely set on accepting him, but Haigh, I think, convinced me to. I think he was just gunning for Sherriff and was trying to show off about gaining new employees or something.”

“I think you were right to be fair, he’s a little creepy. I doubt he could convince anyone to stay on the right side of the law if he offered them a bribe,” he says and runs his hand through his hair. He looks around at everyone walking around, the street being much emptier than normal. 

“Really? I thought he was too charming to be an honest deputy when he came in,” his Dad says and Stiles frowns. He runs over his interactions with Theo and all he can remember is the unsettled feeling he’s had around the guy.

“That uh that doesn’t match up with any of the interactions I’ve had with him,” he tells his Dad and scratches the back of his neck again, trying to figure it out. “I guess maybe it’s because we’re, you know, the Beacon Hills Seven or whatever. He seemed a little too interested in it when I talked to him yesterday.”

“Unfortunately, that covers a lot of people in this town,” his Dad mutters, sounding angry now. Stiles agrees entirely, but it saddens him more than it angers him. “I’ve got to get to the station, I’ll see you later, son.”

“Okay, love you Dad,” he says, but the call disconnects before he can finish. He shakes his head and shoves his phone in his pocket. He pauses for a second before heading back into the shop and fishes his phone back out again to text Kira.

_To: HERkirLESE MULLIGAN_  
_12:39 PM_  
_Still stuck in Slasherville, pls come rescue me!!!! seriously, everyone here is creepy including the police and greenburg owns where i used to work… also the guy you kept telling me to climb like a tree still has a fiancee but trouble seems to be in paradise like a fucking hurricane which means that there is now a 0.1% chance of you getting to be my best man at our wedding instead of a 0.000001% chance. is working on 2016: a game odyssey still as confusing as the monty hall problem? Please give me like positive updates because the PMA thing you suggested has become an NMA thing and yet is still not the worst initialized thing with the letters N and A in it._

He knows she won’t be able to reply for a while since she’s in the compulsory daily meeting right now and won’t be out of it for at least an hour or so. Still, just texting her reminds him that he has got a life out of here and can leave. Not right now since there’s a murder investigation and they’re both potential victims and potential suspects, but at least he has somewhere to go when he gets out of here. 

Taking a deep breath and shaking his head, he heads back into the shop and back to the couches. Isaac and Cora have rearranged themselves to fit their couch more now that Derek has left and Lydia has moved over to give him more space. They’re all looking at him expectantly. 

“That was my Dad, Tar-, sorry Sherriff Graeme asked him to come into the station to compare cases,” he tells them, raising his eyebrows as he sits down. “And he said he had no idea why Danny was asked to the station since we’re not supposed to be disturbed apparently.”

“Well, that’s suspicious,” Lydia says and clasps her hands together. “We should start a murder board on all the reasons why that deputy is creepy as fuck.”

“His name is Theo Raeken, by the way,” he informs them, wishing he had a drink again. He glances at the line at the counter which is probably the same size as when Danny first got their drinks. “I’m going to go get another drink, does anyone want anything?”

Lydia looks at him for a few seconds with narrowed eyes before she sighs and says, “Large Cappuccino.”

The way she says _large_ sounds like it pains her to say. Instead of rolling his eyes at her, he winks and she just huffs. He grins and turns to Isaac and Cora. 

“Just a medium black coffee,” Cora requests and pauses. She glances down at her stomach and her face contorts into an exhausted one. “Decaf, and small.”

“Earl Grey tea, small,” Isaac tells him and Stiles can see him trying not to laugh at Cora’s stroppiness at her lack of caffeine. He nods, pushing up to stand up again and heads off the join the queue. 

The coffee shop is pretty busy now so there’s no silence as he stands in the queue which he prefers. While teenage him often got distracted by all the talking and preferred the silence, he’s much happier in busy places now. The silence reminds him of far too many memories he’d rather not remember. Even in their apartment, him and Kira both ensure that there’s always music playing so it’s never silent.

He keeps to himself in the queue, avoiding meeting anyone’s eye so he doesn’t have to talk to anyone other than the cashier. He knows it’s probably rude, but he thanks Heavens, when it’s not, Mason serving. He just doesn’t feel like talking to anyone else and he keeps his order as short as possible. 

“Wait a second, you’re a personal trainer and you were disappointed you couldn’t have caffeine?” Lydia is saying as he gets back to them, placing their drinks on the table. He almost downs his coffee in one but settles for taking a swig instead since that’s probably a little bit more socially acceptable. Lydia still side-eyes him, but with less malice than expected. 

“I’m a personal trainer with a tragic background, I’m allowed to have a caffeine addiction,” Cora defends, taking a swig of her decaf coffee in a very similar way to how Stiles did. “Besides, as long as I give suitable advice to my clients, it doesn’t matter what I do... Plus I run more gym classes than I do personal training. Apparently, people in Beacon Hills would rather pay me to ask questions about you know what than for you know, personal trainings.”

“That sucks,” he remarks and she nods at him, and sends a general glare to the rest of the coffee shop. “How long have you guys been back then?”

“Like three and half months maybe?” Isaac says, sounding a little unsure of himself.

“He still wants to go back to Paris,” Cora tells them in a mock whisper, pointing at him and making a ‘shh’ gesture.

“Fuck off,” he tells Cora in an overly positive voice and picks up his own drink to take a sip out of it like the Kermit meme.

“Don’t swear in front of the baby, Isaac,” Lydia says and tuts at him, gesturing towards Cora. Isaac stares at her blankly for a couple of seconds before taking a deep breath and sighing.

“I swear to God if that becomes a running joke, I will, I don’t know, leave town even if I’m not allowed to because of the stupid murders,” Isaac threatens and it’s possibly the weakest threat Stiles has heard in a long time. 

Cora rolls her eyes at her boyfriend, but she knocks their legs together. “Anyway, what have you guys been up to since the last time we saw each other?”

“I uh, I guess I count as a lecturer. I mostly work in theoretical maths at Yale, but I give some lectures as well,” Lydia tells them, rearranging how she’s sitting on the sofa. “And I’ve been seeing a guy for a while now. He’s was a deputy in some tiny town in Maine, but he came down to Connecticut for uh a police convention or something, I don’t know. We met when he nearly hit me when he was on his bike and riding way too fast and he eventually moved in with me after a year or so. He works for a security company now.”

“That seems almost like a thematic love story,” Isaac remarks. Lydia stares at him for a few seconds before snorting and taking a sip out of her coffee. “What about you, Stilinski, you got any love interests in your life?”

“Nah. The closest I’ve got to that is the cute guy I occasionally talk to at the water machine at work,” he says, trying not to be that depressed about his complete lack of a love life. “Danny thought I was dating my roommate apparently, but considering she’s a lesbian, that probably won’t happen ever. We’ll just continue to work in game design together and get yelled at for distracting each other at work.”

“I mean, at least you’re in an industry that will continue to live on for years so you’ve got stability. Apparently, that’s very attractive for adults,” Isaac says and it’s possibly the most depressing thing they’ve said in this conversation.

“Probably the most attractive thing about me to be honest,” he admits and Lydia bumps her shoulder into his. “Nah, I just, dating’s not on my radar, to be honest. I tried it when I first moved out to New York, but you know, when your date hallucinates their dead ex-girlfriend within five minutes of the date starting, it’s clearly not going well… It just wasn’t a good experience for any party. And like, now, I guess I could start dating again since I have really benefited from counseling and all, but I just, I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want to deal with rejection right now.”

“I get it,” Isaac says and nods. Stiles nods back to them and takes a sip of his coffee.

“And can we all now talk about something exponentially less depressing than my love life?” he questions, earning a laugh from Cora. 

Lydia hums and tilts her head to the side. “Who is your favorite character from Brooklyn 99?”

“Don’t,” Cora warns immediately, bumping her shoulder extra hard against Isaac’s. “Do not get Isaac started about Brooklyn 99. He will sing its praises for literally years if you let him. And also my favorite character is Rosa because she is a _badass_.”

Before anyone else can chip in, the volume of the TV near the counter begins to rise until it’s too loud for them to hear themselves over it, giving them no choice really but to focus on it. He rolls his eyes, wondering if this ever really happens anymore outside of Beacon Hills considering most people get news notifications on their phones. He glances at it and immediately looks away when he sees a decapitated body in a car on the news story. His eyebrows furrow and he tries not to think about it. That's just something that shouldn't be shown on TV.

The entire coffee shop is silent as the news presenter explains the situation. When he hears the name _Nolan_ , he looks back at the TV without even realizing it. It doesn’t bode well for the police that their prime suspect has just been decapitated in a car crash. 

It also doesn't bode well for them since the killer is probably still out there which is a fact he's trying not to think about it.

“Well,” Isaac starts when the news story is over and Greenburg lowers the volume again. “That’s unexpected.”

“I don’t want to point any fingers, but the prime suspect is now dead and this happened like what? An hour, two hours after Danny and Derek left,” Lydia says, but her voice is shaking and she doesn’t sound like she believes the words she’s saying at all.

“Nope,” Stiles tells her immediately. “No, no, no. We are not doing this again. We are _never_ doing this again.”

 

**06/06/2006**  
_It’s just past midnight when they hear a bang at the window._

_Derek is the first person up to check, followed by Isaac and Lydia. He and Cora trail after them, her holding her shoulder in a vice-like grip. He can barely make it out in the dark of the night, but he knows it’s Allison. One of the deck lights has turned on, illuminating her slightly. Her hair looks wild and untamed and her clothes are ripped. She looks exhausted and desperate. She’s trying the doors and banging on the windows, just trying to get in._

_“Don’t let her in,” Cora says quietly beside him. Lydia hums in agreement, running her hands through her hair._

_“We can’t leave her out there to die,” Isaac protests, turning to look at them all. Stiles nods, trying to shut out the sound of Allison crying out for help._

_“She’s the killer, Isaac!” Lydia says, sounding certain despite the shakiness of her voice. “Who else do we know who can shoot arrows precisely and was mysteriously missing when we were being shot at?”_

_“Ally was with us when Harris was killed,” Stiles argues, hugging his arms around himself. “It’s not her.”_

It’s Matt, _remains unspoken on his tongue, knowing they’re not going to listen to him. They’ve already told him he’s just being paranoid and unfair._

_“That entire thing was staged,” Lydia tells him and crosses her arms. Allison is still shouting for help outside, her voice seeming hoarser._

_“By William Barrow, like the police said,” Isaac replies immediately. He stares at Cora and Derek, trying to get them to agree. “He mysteriously escaped from jail and is missing now. Obviously, he’s the killer and not Allison! Let her in!”_

_“No! We’re not letting the killer in!” Cora tells him and Stiles just sighs. He clenches his eyes shut, not wanting to look at anyone. He just wants this entire thing to end._

_“She’s not the killer!” Isaac insists, moving to the door but Cora pushes him away, glaring at him weakly._

_“We vote!” Lydia announces, looking around the group. “All for not letting her in?”_

_She and Cora immediately raise their hands. He looks at Derek who’s just looking between the two groups in almost fear. He stares hard at him, trying to convince him to their side. It’s silent for a few seconds before Derek slowly raises his hand, not looking at Isaac or Stiles._

_“It’s settled the-” Lydia starts, but she stops herself when the single outdoor light turns off, plunging Allison into darkness._

_They all freeze, staring at the window in silence. Stiles bites his lip and wrings his hands out. Allison is still crying for help, but she sounds terrified now._

_“That’s it, I’m letting her in!” Isaac tells them and no one protests. He goes to push past Cora, but then the lights turn on again._

_“No, no, no, no, no, no,” he murmurs, staring ahead at Allison. The killer’s behind her. She’s going to die. It’s their fault. She’s going to die._

_Cora pushes Isaac away from the door, not letting him go out. They all just watch in horror as the killer swings the axe. Stiles nearly vomits when he sees it. The axe slices through the back of her head and her body below the mouth falls down, blood splattering the cracked window._

 

“You’re right,” Cora says, disrupting Stiles' memory. Her nose twitches and she narrows her eyes as she glares down at her drink. “We’re not doing this. All of us now, we promise that we don’t blame each other.” 

“Yeah, we can’t do that again,” Isaac agrees, his voice hoarse.

“You guys are right, I just,” Lydia starts, but she trails off. She takes a deep breath and sips her drink. “I just, I think I just try to find a culprit because I don’t trust anyone. Yet another symptom of being a part of a murder spree I guess… But you’re right. We shouldn’t blame each other. Like Stiles said earlier, we’ve got to stick together.”

“We do,” he says quietly, and the conversation ends again. He finishes the last bit of his drink, avoiding looking at anyone else which isn’t even an issue since everyone else seems to be doing the exact same. 

It’s silent for almost a minute before he feels his phone buzz in his pocket again. He fishes it out, getting ready to get up since he’s expecting it to be his Dad again. He nearly drops his phone when he reads _unknown number_ and sighs. 

“Every time I see an unknown number, I have a heart attack when 90% the time it’s like a plumber that Kira called or the Doctor’s office calling,” he says, looking down at his phone again. 

“Are you expecting any unknown callers anytime soon?” Lydia questions and Stiles decides to not answer rather than admit that the only unknown caller he could think of is the asshole who called yesterday. 

“Are you going to answer it?” Cora asks and Stiles looks up at her and then back down at the phone. There’s no real point in not answering it so he picks up the phone, very much not wanting to.

“Hello?” he asks, somehow reverting back to his customer service voice when he worked in a call center in college. He nearly bursts into laughter at it.

“Are you sure about that?” the voice questions. It sounds like the person who called yesterday, but they made a lot more sense yesterday. 

“Sure about what?” he asks, trying to figure out what that question could possibly be in reference to. Maybe they just don’t like commonly used greetings for English-speakers when answering the phone to unknown numbers. 

“Are you sure about sticking together?” the voice asks and Stiles rolls his eyes. This is like a step-by-step recreation of last time. “Didn’t I teach you that your friends weren’t to be trusted last time around?”

“Considering that was Matthew Daehler last time and he’s very much dead, I think I’m pretty secure in saying that no, you did not teach me that,” he says quickly, glaring down at the table pretending it’s the voice on the other side of the phone. “From the bottom of my heart, let me just say, _fuck off_.”

He clicks the phone off and places on the table and rolls his eyes. 

“That’s one way to deal with that, I guess,” Lydia says next to him and when he looks over at her, she smiles genuinely at him. He grins back at her, feeling a sense of pride in his response. 

“Good on you,” Isaac says and he’s grinning too. Even Cora smiles at him as she sips from her drink again. 

Maybe three seconds later, his phone buzzes again and he glances at it to see a text saying _You’ll regret that_ from the unknown number. He looks at it, thinks good on the prankster for being able to use apostrophes and promptly deletes it. 

Still, he can't shake the feeling of uneasiness as he does it. He can't know for sure that it is just a prankster.

“Have the police said anything more about tracking the number?” Cora inquires, looking at her own phone for a few seconds before placing it face down on the table.

“You’d think they would, but Tara put Haigh in charge of cyber crimes and that guy has hated me since high school for some reason. Apparently, it’s not that important and bothering the police with prank calls isn’t suitable behavior for adults,” he remarks, wondering how close he got to Haigh’s actual words. They were not polite ones. "Oh and apparently, he had a victim of a real crime waiting for him, and wasting police time is a crime." 

“I’d understand if there wasn’t a real chance that it isn’t a prank call and if three people hadn’t been murdered,” Isaac says and Stiles raises his eyebrows. He’d ranted about that enough to Kira this morning when she’d phoned him before work.

“Isn’t Haigh the one who didn’t believe Matt was the killer and blamed us?” Cora asks and Stiles stares at her. His eyebrows furrow; he has no idea what she’s talking about at all. 

“I beg your pardon?” Lydia questions, leaning forward with a creased forehead. “I wasn’t aware that anyone blamed us considering Matt, you know, cornered us with an ax and also tried to kill us many times during that week of terror.”

“Yeah, I don’t remember that either. Like I definitely blacked out a lot of what happened back then, but I feel like I’d remember that,” he agrees, looking between Isaac and Cora who both look very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Cora bites her lip and avoids looking at them. “Uh yeah, so you know how you guys graduated early and left town? A little bit after that, there was this uh, movement? I guess it was a movement. It was started by Haigh and a couple of other deputies, and uh it was basically just a bunch of people who didn’t think it was Matt. They thought we were psychopaths or something and like we made it all up for attention and that we’d killed everyone.”

“That,” he starts, but trails off. He has no idea what to say in response to that. 

“Is evidence that shitty people will always exist even if they’re not active murderers,” Lydia finishes for him and he nods. That articulates his thoughts precisely.

“That’s probably how Morrell came to be Mayor, now that I think about it. She was one of our staunch defenders,” Isaac adds and Stiles’ eyebrows practically jump up. He frowns, feeling a little bad for having such a negative attitude towards her now.

His phone buzzes on his table again and he sighs. He wishes he could go back to having his phone on silent all the time like he does at work. Doing that when the police might need to contact you at any point is not a good idea for obvious reasons. He glances down at it, slightly shocked to see it’s just his Dad asking if they can do dinner at home instead. 

“Why does my Dad ask to do a homecooked meal when he has to know that he has literally no fresh ingredients in the house for me to use?” he asks, looking down at the phone with contempt. He wasn’t really planning on going grocery shopping. “Plus, I haven’t made a homecooked meal in like at least three years. Both Kira and I have like eleven-hour days if you take traveling into account.”

“Oh my God, you are such a mess,” Lydia murmurs and Isaac lets out a bark of laughter. Stiles feels a rush of blood to his cheeks but he doesn’t protest it. “ _I_ am going to take you shopping and the send you instructions for the salad you’re going to make for dinner which also means, we can leave these lovebirds alone for a bit.”

“Okay then,” he says, deciding not to argue with Lydia because really, there’s no arguing with Lydia. 

“There’s a pretty cool organic shop you guys could check out,” Cora offers, but she’s not looking at them. She’s smiling at Isaac who’s smiling right back at her. “It’s called Organic Crowd and it’s like maybe uh twenty minutes, half an hour away, if you walk.”

“We’ll check it out and then I’ll get Jordan to pick us up after,” Lydia decides and Stiles just nods along. “Come on then, Stilinski. Let’s go be functional adults.”

 

 **02:53 PM**  
“Okay, so we need grapefruit, mustard preferably Dijon, kosher salt-” Lydia begins, but he can’t help to cut her off.

“So we’re just not going to talk about how lost you just got us and we’re not going to at least take a break because we’ve been walking for way too long?” he asks, not even bothered that he interrupted her. She side-eyes him, not dignifying it with a response. “Okay, so we’re not doing that. Carry on then.”

“I’d say I’ll get all the ingredients and you just watch, but that’s inefficient as fuck and I refuse to infantilize a twenty-seven-year-old man,” Lydia tells him and he just nods again. She’s going into her almost military mode. “So, you go and get grapefruit, olive oil, and acid and we’ll meet at the checkout.”

“Uh, acid?” he asks, staring at her with wide eyes. He’s pretty sure she’s not suggesting he get high with his Dad because that would be an absolute trainwreck of an idea. 

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I’ll get the acid, and the, I don’t know, the kosher salt and mustard. You go and get avocado instead.”

Almost immediately, he wants to make a vine reference before he stops himself, realizing that Lydia most definitely will not understand it if he says _FR E SH A VOCA DO_ because it’s Lydia Martin who he’s currently shopping with, not Kira. He frowns.

He articulates that thought to Lydia, focussing on how weird that now feels.

Lydia hums and she starts walking down the aisle. Although it was only a few moments ago that she said they split up, he gets the feeling like that plan has changed without either of them acknowledging it. The shop isn’t really big enough to warrant the splitting up anyway. He’s not entirely sure that he’s not just reading the mood wrong, but he decides to just trail after her as she picks stuff up from the shelves and places them in the basket. 

“It’s a mixture of the tragedy of adulthood and the tragedy of teen murders,” Lydia tells him, sounding nonchalant but her grip on the basket has tightened and her knuckles are white.

“Very relatable, Miss Martin, very relatable,” he says and gestures towards a myriad of mustard on the shelf. Lydia meanders over to it and picks up one of them. She examines it before putting it into the basket and turns into a different aisle.

“You know, I’ve recently come to the realization that it is actually very relatable, especially in a media-saturated world,” Lydia murmurs. His eyes narrow and he looks at her, wondering what she means. When he doesn’t reply, she takes it as an indication to explain it further, “Our country unfortunately has an epidemic of school shootings. You know, I once confided in a colleague about it all when I had a breakdown at work and you know what she told me? She told me not to blame myself because what happened was inevitable, and then she said that if Matt had had access to a gun, it wouldn’t have happened. It would have been a school shooting which is apparently better because they’re quick.”

“That’s complete bullshit,” he says immediately and slightly too loudly. He lowers his voice and tries not to blush as the other patrons in the shop look towards them. “The logic is ridiculous and none of it’s quick anyway. It’s been ten years since it happened and I still can’t ever escape it. It doesn’t matter how long it takes for it to be over physically, the memories remain for the rest of your fucking life.”

“Everyone has an opinion on everything even if they’ve never experienced it,” Lydia reminds him and he sighs, knowing she’s right. Before he can reply, he feels a buzz in his pocket and takes out his phone again. “Is that the… you know?”

“Asshole who keeps calling me with the voice modifier app?” he asks and opens the text. “Nope, it’s my roommate, thankfully.”

_From: HERkirLESE MULLIGAN_  
_03:01 PM_  
_can not rescue you unfortunately, one of us has to make money this week or we won’t have anywhere to live. also, like you’re in a small town stiles, of course everyone is creepy. which one is greenburg again? and also, i told you it was fate!! you two are going to be at least fukcing by the end of the week and im already writing my speech for your wedding. and yes, this game makes no sense and i just keep getting weirdass instructions like theres a talking giraffe who only wears scarlet sunrise lipstick in it now but its in the ice level????????????? The only like positive update i have is that i actually paid rent on tiem this week._

He grins down at his phone before locking it and putting it in his pocket. He’ll reply to that later when he knows Kira isn’t at work and can actually reply without getting yelled at by their boss. She’s probably on a bathroom break now.

“I am far too jumpy,” Lydia announces and he nods in complete agreement.

“We have all right to be,” he tells her and she just hums in response and starts unpacking things. His eyebrows furrow before he realizes that they’re at the checkout and he didn’t even notice, probably since he was looking at his phone. 

It’s quiet for a couple of moments before the lady at the checkout looks up at them with a smile on her face and asks, “Oh are you making a clean-eating salad?”

“Yes, a grapefruit and avocado clean-eating salad as a treat for his Dad,” Lydia says politely while Stiles just tries not to stare at how sharp her fangs look. He genuinely can’t tell if she’s had them sharpened like that one character in the Hunger Games. 

“Well, you’ve got to treat a retired Sherriff, don’t you?” the lady says brightly and Stiles just nods, wishing she’d hurry up. “Especially now with all the new trouble going on.”

“Trouble is an odd way to describe three murders,” Lydia remarks. The smile on her face seems as fake as the checkout lady’s fangs. He keeps his gaze on the checkout itself, noticing that her nails are also weirdly long.

“I’m sure it’s an almost daily thing for you guys,” she tells them and Stiles sighs. Of course. They can’t go one day without this happening in this goddamn town. “Especially since you, you know, helped with the final one.”

“Okay, Miss uh Kali,” Lydia starts and Stiles finally notices that she is wearing a name tag. “What you’re doing now can be considered harassment and that is a crime. You might find the murder spree interesting or you might think it wasn’t that bad or whatever, but keep it to yourself. I personally don’t give a single fuck if you don’t like us because of it, so can we please have our total so I can pay and we can leave because we’re already late for a dinner with the mayor and I don’t think she’d appreciate it that much?”

Although the look on Kali’s face is almost murderous itself, she complies and they leave the shop very quickly and Stiles feels himself move almost robotically as he packages everything up and walks out. 

“So that’s a bit of uh a big lie,” he comments as they get out into the fresh air, scanning the street for Parrish’s car. He can’t see it anywhere and Lydia doesn’t seem to be walking with purpose so he doubts she does either. 

“Not really,” Lydia says and smirks at him. “I am going to dinner with Morrell, but it’s tomorrow at midday, but I reckon I could have argued with that woman all night and all morning so you know, I would have been late.”

He grins and laughs silently. “God, I’ve missed you, Lydia.”

 

 **05:37 PM**  
He collapses on the couch, turning the TV onto a random channel where a rerun of Jeremy Kyle is on. He doesn’t like the show, but it’s better than thinking about how awkward dinner was before his Dad had to go out again. It was just an hour of trying to avoid any major topic, which is a very awkward dinner to navigate.

The episode has barely begun when he hears his phone buzz. He grabs at the side table for a bit before he manages to actually get his phone. He looks down at it to see a Facebook Messenger notification of a new group chat.

_05:40 PM_  
_Danny Māhealani has created a new group chat with Cora Hale, Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, and Lydia Martin: Survival of the LITest_

 _Danny Māhealani: Turns out they forgot to enter some of my details in the system and needed me to give them again but not today because everyone was very confused by my presence and I had to wait like two hours._  
_Danny Māhealani: But on the bright side, Deputy Ethan Steiner is pretty cute._

He snorts. It reminds him of Danny in high school.

_05:42 PM_  
_Stiles Stilinski: Finally, a positive for Slasherville Central (:_

_Lydia Martin: Be careful Danny, the pretty ones always die first._

_05:43_ _Isaac Lahey: He said pretty cute, not pretty Lydia_

_Lydia Martin: Okay then. I wholeheartedly support this relationship as long as you don’t fuck in either my bed or my Mother’s bed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be 5k, idk how it became 10k  
> also stating a specific date for a story means i had to google when the fr e sh a vaca do vine was posted and when lit was used  
> and if you only know what a clothing material looks like, its so difficult to figure out what it's called oml i spent forty minutes trying to figure out what shearling was called


	4. Homicide is a Much Healthier, Therapeutic Expression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that two week thing went out of the window huh
> 
>  
> 
> title from scream 1

**06/03/2016**  
 **09:27 AM**  
“Why are we here?” he whispers to Lydia, staring at the bright blue door in front of them. It’s only a little ironic that the house is number thirteen. He’s half expecting to learn that they’re on Elm Street and that the town has been renamed Haddonfield which is now conveniently next to Packanack Lodge.

“Because you need closure,” Lydia tells him in a hushed voice, rolling her eyes at Stiles despite the fake smile plastered on her face. It almost hides how dead inside she looks.

“If this is about Matt’s death, why didn’t you bring Derek?” he questions and shakes his head, trying to stop thinking about that night. He takes a deep breath and stares straight ahead at the door.

“If you think I want to deal with his jealousy-fuelled viper of a fiancée this early in the morning, you must have lost at least half of your brain cells since high school. Not that you had that many to begin with,” Lydia says and Stiles can’t argue, both because he has no argument and because Mrs. Daehler opens the door at that point.

“Miss Martin,” she greets with a genuine smile on her face. She’s the exact opposite of how Stiles was expecting which isn’t surprising considering for the past ten years, Stiles has imagined her to be a mixture of a witch and Pamela Vorhees with a touch of Norma Bates. In reality, she’s just a normal-looking middle-aged woman with mousy brown hair and caramel eyes.

“Please, Mrs. Daehler, it’s Lydia,” Lydia replies, the fake smile on her face easing into a real one. “And this is Stiles, I wouldn’t recommend trying to pronounce his actual name.”

He nods, deciding to let Lydia do all the talking. She’s more charismatic than he could ever be and she seems to have this entire thing planned out. He gets the feeling that she’s had this meeting planned before the week even began and before Stiles had even agreed to come back. 

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Daehler says, still smiling at both of them. Stiles isn’t really trying to avoid her gaze, but he seems to be doing it without realizing it. “Please, come in.”

Lydia heads in right after Mrs. Daehler. Stiles is frozen until the door nearly slams in front of him that shocks him into following them. The whole house is decorated with family photos of Mrs. Daehler’s two other children, but he can’t see a single photo of Matt. He frowns, having not realized that Matt had siblings despite the faces in the photos seeming familiar. He’s not sure what he was expecting of the house really. It wouldn’t make much sense to have photos of Matt plastered all over the house, but he always thinks the worst. The lounge doesn’t look homey really, but it’s nice. It just looks a little too clean and a little too perfect. It’s all beige and white with gold accents and it’s how he’d imagine Lydia to decorate a lounge. He takes a hesitant seat next to Lydia on the loveseat, sitting as far forward as possible while Lydia seems to be a little bit more willing to relax. 

He lets her choose his drink for him when Mrs. Daehler offers them a drink, still processing everything. He doesn’t know what to say to this woman; he killed her son. 

“You know that you have to speak at some point,” Lydia mutters to him and he nods. He takes a deep breath and looks out of Mrs. Daehler’s bay window, watching the trees outside sway in the wind.

“I know, Lyds, I know,” he murmurs. He feels a little like he’s suffocating. “It’s just, it’s a lot. I helped to, you know, with Matt. There has to be a part of her that blames me, right? It’d be ridiculous if she didn’t.”

“Do you have to always expect the worst in people, Stiles? Why would she blame you for defending yourself and your friends?” Lydia asks, rolling her eyes at him again.

“Why not? Everyone else does,” he points out and rolls his own eyes. He knows she must have had the same experience as him, shitty people exist everywhere in the world. “I work with someone who thinks I’m the bad one for killing him. Like it was my fucking fault that he cornered us with an ax. Yeah, I didn’t want to do it and I hate that I did, but there was only one way out of that cabin that didn’t involve a Stiles-sized body bag.”

“This is why we’re here,” Lydia reminds him and he huffs, knowing he followed the satnav right into that one after typing in the address himself. “Clearly, you need closure and so do I.”

He has a feeling she has more to say, but that’s when Mrs. Daehler comes back in, placing the drinks on the coffee table. She takes a seat opposite them in one of the armchairs, crossing one leg over the other and smiling at them.

“Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Daehler,” Lydia says in a very polite tone. Stiles tries not to groan at the idea of having to make small talk. It’s possibly his worst nightmare after all the memories of his friends dying and all. 

“Thank you,” Mrs. Daehler says in a matching polite tone. He’s half-expecting her to bring the weather up at this point. He takes a drink from his coffee and tries not to think about it which is all he seems to do these days. He spends more time trying not to think than he does actually thinking. “I should… I should apologize for not doing anything the first time. I knew Matt wasn’t as uh, I knew he had problems and he was never home when the murders happened. By the time I pieced it all together, the police had said it was Barrow and I just, I wanted it to be him. I didn’t want it to be my, my son… But I should have done something, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did wrong with him, I wish I could change it all.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Mrs. Daehler. You have two lovely children who didn’t… you know. There are just some people who you, you can’t stop from doing what they’re going to do,” Lydia says and Stiles nods. He doesn’t have a single clue what to say so he just takes another sip from his coffee.

“Of course, Whitney is a teacher and Clay is a stay-at-home Dad. They’re both fine,” Mrs. Daehler says and they both nod in response. He can vaguely remember Whitney Daehler now, she was a senior when they were freshmen and ran the history club Stiles attended a little too excitedly. 

“Both respectable lives,” Lydia says, raising her eyebrows in an approving manner. She sips her coffee. “I uh, please feel free to stop me if I’m overstepping, but I wanted to ask you about the new uh set of murders. Many people in the town have lived this, but few of us have a personal connection, I guess.”

“Ten years ago, asking me about murders would be overstepping my dear, but the people in this town stare at me every time I leave my house and they call me the Mother of Death or whatever it is this season,” Mrs Daehler says in a quiet voice and Stiles’ heart hurts for her. He gets it, completely. “Forgive me for being so crass, but the new murders don’t seem to have any class to them. It feels very random and like the killer hasn’t got a plan. I don’t know if that makes it worse.”

“I thought the same. They’d have to be a master at anticipating the human mind to have figured out that Hayden would leave the police station like she did. And the first celebration was only moved from the town square into the town hall at the last moment. I’m not sure where they would have hid the first two bodies if it hadn’t been moved,” Lydia agrees and hums. Stiles bites his lip, knowing he should join into the conversation at some point. 

“And there’s no actual serial killer in the hospital to pin it all on,” Stiles points out, his voice cracking a little. He tries to hide the blush in his cheeks behind his cup.

“There is an escaped patient from Eichen House, however,” Mrs. Daehler counters and Stiles just stares at her, his cup shaking in his hand. There was an escape from a notorious mental health facility and _no one_ mentioned it until now. God, he hates this fucking town. 

“And suddenly we’re transported back to 1978,” Lydia says. Stiles glances at her to see a tight smile on her face. Her eyes are little too wide for it to look normal. “Let’s hope none of us are secretly related to them and promise to not take any babysitting gigs any time soon.”

“Are the police looking into this escape as potentially related to the murders?” he questions, although he’s not sure how anyone in the room to know. He supposes it might have been town gossip at one point.

“Last I heard, Deputy McClelland was looking into it, but that was Judith from the Bingo who said that so I can’t be sure that it’s true,” Mrs. Daehler tells him and he nods, having no clue who Judith is or that Bingo was that popular in Beacon Hills. “That woman, I tell you, she’d tell you that her son is the first person on Pluto and for a few moments, you believe her and you’re so proud of your town until you realize that she doesn’t have a son.”

“Plus Beacon Hills is in California, not Ohio so she can’t even spin the coincidence-conspiracy angle,” Lydia adds, sipping her coffee.

“Well, actually the Ohio-astronaut conspiracy is pretty ridiculous if you actually look into the numbers. DC is the real winner with nearly six astronauts per million inhabitants compared to the national average which is just over one,” he points out, the numbers pretty much jumping out of his mouth. He didn’t realize he actually retained all that data after his argument with Kira about this. “And anyway, California has twenty-three astronauts while Ohio has twenty-one so we’re beating them.”

Lydia rolls her eyes in a very exaggerated manner next to him, but she looks a little impressed which is an achievement. “ _Anyway_ , we all know a Judith.”

“Oh, I imagine that you two know far too many Judiths and that your Judiths are far too eager to tell you what they think about what happened,” Mrs. Daehler tells them and Stiles can’t do anything but nod. It always surprises when someone outside of the seven of them hit the nail on the head so well. 

“Those Judiths have an opinion on everything,” Lydia agrees and takes a sip of her coffee. She picks at a nail and frowns. “On everything from how we should have handled the Erica situation to what we should have worn to the dance to what we should have done on that final night in the cabin.”

He side-eyes her, wondering why she’d bring that up. She’s right, but he doesn’t understand why that has to be one of her examples. It’s a sore point for all of them.

“And they never consider that theorizing about it after the event is much easier than trying to come up with a coherent plan when there’s actually a murderer in the same building as them,” Mrs. Daehler murmurs and she sounds so sad that it hurts Stiles so much.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Daehler,” he blurts out, the guilty pouring out of him. “I’m so sorry about Matt, I just, there was no other way I could think of getting out of it alive. I’m sorry about your son, I’m so fucking sorry. I killed your son and I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Daehler regards him for a few loaded seconds while Stiles squirms under her gaze before she finally responds, “Oh, you poor boy. You didn’t kill my son… Think about this way, you wouldn’t blame a pawn for being in the wrong place on a chessboard, you’d blame the player. My son, he created a game and he lost. It was his own fault, as much as it pains me that it was my son who did that.”

“Right,” he says in a distant voice. It’s hard to process that.

For the past ten years, the guilt has wrecked him. He’d beat himself up every day about the fact he took someone’s son away from them. Nightmares would plague him and he was always on edge, expecting to be arrested and charged with murder. He’d wonder if he deserved to be in a maximum security prison or in the electric chair and sometimes that’s all he’d be able to think about. His brain would go into overdrive as he tried to find a way to not blame himself, but he’d fail every time. And now he’s here, talking to the Mother of the boy he killed and she doesn’t blame him. It’s like everything he understood has crumbled down leaving a wreck of confusion and pain.

“Thank you, Mrs. Daehler,” Lydia says and Stiles guesses it’s on his behalf. He just can’t even think of enough words to string a sentence together. He just feels lost.

She smiles sadly at the two of them like she knows exactly what they’re thinking. He squirms again. It feels like his fight or flight instinct is about to kick in, but there’s no threat at all.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed our conversation, I’m afraid I will have to cut it short,” Mrs. Daehler says and pushes up to her feet and picking up their mostly empty cups. “I’ve got to get ready to go out with my friends.”

“With Judith?” Lydia asks in a polite tone. Mrs. Daehler nods and rolls her eyes. “You can never escape a Judith. Speaking of which, I do have my own preparations to do for brunch with Mayor Morrell.”

There’s scattered laughter from all of them with Stiles still unsure of how he feels about Morrell after what Isaac said the day before. The leaving part is just as awkward and Stiles gets the feeling that Mrs. Daehler wants to hug them goodbye, but they all settle for a verbal goodbye before the door shuts behind them. 

He looks over to Lydia who looks like she’s attempting to control her face so she just looks slightly smug and a little airy. It’s like a direct flashback to high school.

“So,” he starts, but he’s interrupted by a vaguely familiar voice.

“Lydia! Stiles!” He glances around, finally locking his gaze on a running figure. He stares at it, trying to figure it out. “Come one, we got to go!”

“What are you talking about, Jordan?” Lydia asks, walking down the steps of the porch, but pausing to cross her arms and stand her ground. He stumbles after her, clueing onto it being her boyfriend. “Go where? I’m not meeting with Morrell for another hour or so.”

“The Hale house was broken into!” he says in a very frustrated voice. Both he and Lydia have an almost knee-jerk reaction with them both rushing over to Jordan’s rental car and practically jumping in like they’re stars of an action movie. Stiles doesn’t even have time to put his seatbelt on before Jordan is driving. 

“Was anyone hurt?” he asks, fumbling to get his seatbelt on so he doesn’t fly out of the fucking window when Jordan inevitably breaks too hard because Jesus Christ, the car is going about as fast as the Hulk Coaster at Universal.

“No,” Jordan replies, not even looking over his shoulder as he speaks. Lydia is sitting next to him, typing away at her phone. 

“I knew I should have put the restaurant’s number in my phone,” Lydia mutters in a very frustrated voice.

“Did they take anything?” he asks, deciding to ignore Lydia’s angry mutters as she tries to search for the restaurant’s number.

“No,” Jordan replies again, still staring straight at the road as he swerves wildly to miss a pothole. Stiles’ fight or flight instinct has most definitely kicked in right now as he grips the car door, wondering if it would be safer to jump out rather than stay in this damn car. 

“Then why the fuck did they break in then?” he asks, his voice shaking. At least they’re going to get to the Hale house quickly, might break the speed of sound while they're at it, but still. 

“Why would I know?” Jordan asks as he pretty much runs a red light. 

“Hi, yes, is this Freeman’s Flavours?” Lydia asks in a voice that sounds a lot like Stiles’ customer service voice during college. “Hi, I’m calling to cancel a reservation, it’s under-”  
Lydia makes a very irritated noise and Stiles is certain that if the windows were down, Lydia would have thrown the phone out of the car. She continues to make tutting noises as she swaps the phone to her other ear. It takes around twenty seconds before she snaps, “Dorophy, ma’am, I am calling to _cancel_ a _reservation_ and it is under Morrell, and no, I do not want a voucher or a coupon or a discount or a free dessert… What? What do you mean? Who canceled it? Okay, you know what, I don’t care. Goodbye.”

“That sounded complicated,” he remarks when Lydia shoves her phone back into her bag and pushes her hair over her shoulder.

“And completely unnecessary since it was already canceled by Morrell’s brother and no one thought it would be a good idea to notify me of that,” Lydia huffs as Jordan takes a sharp corner and Stiles’ head knocks against the window. He glares at the back of Jordan’s head, massaging his skull. He has no idea how this guy was previously a police officer. 

“It’s a metaphor for your life, Lyds,” he tells her and he can hear her sigh and it’s a heavy sigh. 

“We’re here,” Jordan announces and Stiles just blinks. He looks out the window and yep, they’re outside the Hale house. He opens the door cautiously, fearing that Jordan will take off at the speed of light again.

“Was there a single moment during that journey where the speed limit came into play at all?” Lydia questions as they exit the car. Stiles dusts off his jeans and heads towards the front door, wanting to give the couple some space. They follow close behind anyway, but at least their bickering about speed is less audible and he can’t even hear it when he knocks on the door. 

It’s Derek who answers and neither of them speaks when the door opens. It feels like all the air in his body just disappears and he just stares at Derek who looks like an Abercrombie model despite being in sweats and a basic tee. They stare at each other for far too long until Derek says, “Everyone else is through here” and guides them through the house to the lounge. He barely has the time to take in the scene before Lydia is rushing toward Cora and who Stiles assumes is the fiancée, Jennifer, who is crying hysterically. Cora is just being hugged by her boyfriend with a sick bowl at her feet while the fiancée is practically screaming. The sound of it makes him tense and it sounds vaguely like the mating call of a lynx. 

He has to look away from it and exchanges glance with Danny who’s talking to Mrs. Hale. Danny raises his eyebrows and side eyes Jennifer with a smirk on his face. Stiles grins back, trying not to roll his eyes since he’s standing next to the guy engaged to her. 

“Hey uh Jordan,” Danny calls and Stiles can see him struggling to control his face. “You know security, right? I mean you work in it so you know, have you got any tips?”

“Depends what you’re after,” Jordan says and Danny just rolls his eyes and motions for Jordan to join him and Mrs. Hale. Stiles watches him go before glancing at Derek and realizing they’re the only people not in conversation. 

It’s silent between them for a few seconds, _again_ , before Derek says, “Want to help me get drinks for everyone?”

“Sure,” he says, shrugging and trying to figure out how to talk to Derek. The whole weird crush thing from when they were teenagers is still making him feel weird. He takes a deep breath and tries to push any thoughts about how attractive Derek looks out of his head. He’s getting married and now is not a good time for Stiles to be looking into dating since there have been at least three murders since they got back to town.

Derek doesn’t look at him again as he asks everyone what they want to drink and heads into the kitchen. Stiles trails after him, hoping that Derek wasn’t expecting him to retain all those drinks because he can only remember Mrs. Hale’s and Jordan’s because both asked for a plain black coffee and that’s what Stiles always asks for.

Walking into the kitchen is almost like walking into the past. It hasn’t changed at all since high school, Stiles can still see the dent in the counter from where Boyd kicked it when he was fighting with Cora. There’s still the mysterious stain on the floor from whatever concoction Erica and Isaac were cooking up that Jackson spilled because he was pissed at them for something. There’s even the same Badger Badger poster he put up as a joke. He takes a deep breath and tries to push the memories away, but it’s a bad idea as the scents in the kitchen flood his senses and memories flood back. He rubs his eyes and leans against the counter as Derek counts out mismatched mugs. 

“Too familiar?” Derek asks, a small smile on his face. Stiles nods as he acclimatizes to it. “It’s not like we even need familiarity considering someone’s just as interested in it, but on the flipside, that familiarity involves murders of people we didn’t even know.”

“Just a little bit less creatively. It’s like murderers today are just interested in as much blood and guts as possible, but they’re lacking in personality,” he remarks, glancing out the window. Derek snorts next to him. 

“It’s capitalism, it’s even destroyed the serial killer industry. We’re just mass producing them with no personality or creativity, just carbon copies of one another.” Derek tells him, a smirk playing on his lips. Stiles can’t help the laughter bubbling up in him at the words. 

He guesses Derek also uses humor as a coping mechanism although he’s genuinely funny which Stiles can’t relate to.

“Is this even the work of a serial killer or is it considered spree killing?” he asks as he helps Derek. He focuses on the black coffees and Derek seems to be on the same wavelength as him, leaving him to it.

“I think a serial killer since there seems to be a cooling off period,” Derek replies. Stiles nods and taps his fingers against the kitchen counter. “It’s ridiculous that you can ask that question and it’s a genuine question.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows at Derek and shrugs. “It’s like this town is cursed.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s us that’s cursed,” Derek disagrees. Stiles frowns, looking at him in confusion. “It’s not like we didn’t all take that trauma with us when we left and it’s not like it isn’t with us now. Maybe Scott’s right. Maybe we should have just never come back.”

He pauses, not sure how to respond. The words are stuck in his throat, but it’s not like he’d be able to formulate them into something coherent if they weren’t. They’re both silent as Stiles tries to think of a way to reply. 

 

**06/02/2006**   
_He comes to when Lydia finishes dabbing at his face with a wet wipe. Her eyes are wet with tears and her hands are red with blood._

_“The police are on their way,” she tells him in a quiet voice, disposing of the bloody wet wipes in the kitchen bin. “It’ll be okay.”_

_“And what are they going to do? Bring her back to life? Stuff her intestines back in her body and stitch her up and she’ll be a-okay?” he asks in a hoarse voice, wrapping his arms around himself. Fuck._

_“Stiles-” she starts, but she’s interrupting by Derek running into the room and hitting the doorway with his shoulder in the panic._

_“Have you seen Laura?” he asks and it’s more of a breathless demand. He stares blankly at him wondering if the answer that he hasn’t seen anything but his girlfriend’s dead body splattering his mind is suitable for the question._

_“I brought Stiles straight in here and we haven’t moved since,” Lydia says curtly, crossing her arms, but Stiles can see her shaking. “Why?”_

_“She’s gone,” Derek says shortly and visibly swallows. He coughs. “We can’t find her anywhere.”_

_“Two down, eleven to go,” he whispers in a hollow voice, staring ahead._

 

“So uh is Cora okay? She looked simultaneously angry and upset,” he says in an uneasy voice, trying to not talk about death for once. It seems to come up no matter what he tries.

“I think it’s about forty percent hormones, forty percent anger, and twenty percent worry, but don’t tell her I said that,” Derek tells him and Stiles can see a hint of a smile on his face. He always did have a special relationship with his sisters. 

“Don’t worry, I definitely won’t because I’m not sure I’d be safe from her wrath if I told her that,” he says and grins himself. Cora was potentially the most terrifying person in the hallways back at school and even more so when Finstock recruited her and Malia for the lacrosse team. Stiles considered quitting right then just so he had zero chance of pissing her off while she’s holding a lacrosse stick.

In hindsight, he wishes he had quit then so he wouldn’t have a scar under his left knee from Cora’s lacrosse stick and possibly a blade because somehow the dull edge of it cut his skin.

“We’ll just blame it on Isaac. She wouldn’t kill the Father of her unborn baby… at least I hope she wouldn’t,” Derek suggests and there is a real grin on his face now. There’s a warm feeling in his chest when he thinks about it.

“Let’s hope,” he says and taps his head. He stirs the coffee as his grin grows. “Are they thinking names yet?” 

“Yeah, for a girl, they’ve chosen Laurel and for a boy, either Mallory or Alexander,” Derek says as he places all the coffee cup on two separate trays for them to carry in.

“It’s nice. It honors the memory, but it’s individual enough that the kid won’t be living in the shadow of all _this_ ,” he says and sips his own coffee before placing it on his tray. 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, his voice a little hoarse. A few more seconds go by before he turns to Stiles to say, “I’m sorry. About Laura and, and the rest of us betting Erica to date you. It wasn’t fair, it was stupid and we never actually apologised for any of it. I’m sorry.”

 

**06/05/2006**   
_“Oh my god, Laura,” Cora says hoarsely beside him before he feels her run towards her sister._

_Stiles just stares. She looks worse than she did in the video and she doesn’t look to be awake. Her face is smeared with blood as more blood gushes from a cut on her cheek. The rope keeping her up against the tree is stained with blood. There’s just so much blood._

_He wouldn’t be surprised if she was already dead. It would probably be better if she was._

_“Laura, Laura, Laura, please, please wake up,” Derek says frantically, cradling his twin sister’s face in his hands. Desperation runs through his voice._

_“Der?”_

_His eyes bug out. She’s still alive. Somehow. He breathes a sigh of relief and leans on Isaac who seems to be in a similar state of shock and relief._

_“Hey Laura,” Cora whispers as Derek moves to untie her from the tree. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you out of here and we’re all going to be okay, okay? We’re going to get through tonight and we’re going to be okay. I promise, we’re going to be goo-”_

_He almost believes her until the ropes fall down and Laura’s insides go with it._

_“Oh god,” Isaac says beside him, steadying Stiles who's begun to sway. His head whips backward and Stiles follows him. Someone’s coming with heavy footsteps. “Guys, come on, we’ve got to go! Someone’s coming!”_

_“No! We’re not leaving her!” Cora yells. Derek’s completely still next to her, just staring at Stiles who’s stopped moving._

_“Cora, she’s dead. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but she’s gone. We can’t do anything to help her now. We have to go,” Isaac tells her, glancing around. The sound of twigs being snapped is getting nearer and nearer._

_“No, no, no, no, we can help her. We have to be able to help her,” Cora insists and Stiles can see the tears pooling her eyes. She stomps her foot, her face wracked with desperation._

_“Cora, we have to go. I know you don’t want to leave her, but she wouldn’t want us to die because of her,” he tells her almost robotically. He’s copying what Allison said to Lydia since it worked then, but Cora doesn’t look convinced._

_“I don’t care, Stiles!” Cora yells and he gets it, completely. He doesn’t know what else to say. It’s only when he hears a whizzing noise and an arrow nicks Cora’s arm that anything changes. Derek moves silently, grabbing Cora and dragging her toward the cabin and Isaac and Stiles follow, not sure what else to do._

 

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he tells Derek, trying to push the memories of both Laura and Erica out of his head for now. It’s too much. “We were kids and we did stupid things. Like _all_ the time. And anyway, it wasn’t even the worst thing that anyone did in high school.”

“Yeah because that’s a high standard,” Derek deadpans and if he wasn’t holding a tray with both hands, he would definitely be face-palming right now. He couldn’t be any more tone-deaf if he tried.

“Right,” he says and it’s basically a squeak. Derek rolls his eyes and heads out of the kitchen. Stiles fumbles to keep up, picking up the other tray. 

Not much has changed as they head into the lounge with the only change being Cora having moved over to sit with her Mom and not so subtly glaring at Jennifer who is still crying and at this point, Stiles is certain that she’s crying crocodile tears if she wasn’t earlier. Stiles watches as Derek places the tray on the table, having completely forgotten that he was carrying his own one. It’s only when Derek looks at him expectantly as he stumbles forward to place it on the table. 

Just as he bends down to place it, he hears a knock at the door and nearly drops his tray out of shock. It’s only due to Derek putting his hand out to steady him that he doesn’t drop four mugs of scorching coffee all over himself. 

“I guess I’ll get that,” Mrs. Hale, looking cautiously at the coffee table as she moves around the sofas to leave the room. The only way to describe how Stiles feels as they wait for her to return is that he waits with bated breath, but he feels a little stupid thinking of it that way. It sounds like one of the dialogue options he might write in his games.

“Ten dollars says it’s not the psycho killer,” Cora says. He rolls his eyes but grins as he looks over at Cora who’s smirking.

“That’s _horrible_ ,” Jennifer cries. Stiles turns to look at her with confusion painted on his face. Clearly, someone doesn’t understand fatalistic humor. “So disrespectful.”

The tension in the air following that makes Stiles even more nervous. He finds himself preparing to intervene when Cora attacks Jennifer. It feels inevitable considering the anger and hatred behind Cora’s current glare. No one speaks with everyone looking between the two of them like it’s a game of tennis.

“They’re all through here,” Mrs. Hale says with her voice floating through the halls before she comes back into the room, followed by one of the police officers from the other night. “This is Deputy Ethan Steiner, he’s here to take preliminary statements about the events.”

“About time,” Jennifer mutters in a tight voice. It’s more of a stage-mutter than how normal people talk. She’s doing a real good job at making everyone around her hate her.

“Jennifer,” Derek hisses, but Stiles doubts she’s listening. He doubts she listens to anything other than the sound of her own voice.

The deputy smiles at them all anyway, aiming a specific one at Danny who’s blushing. “Hi, can I ask everyone who wasn’t here during the event to wait outside this room? My partner Aiden is outside so you’ll be safe as long as you stay nearby.”

“We can go wait out back,” Lydia suggests, standing up and shuffling over so she’s further away from the sofa where she was sitting. He glances over at Jennifer and wonders how many walls her voice can go through. 

“Yeah, let’s,” he decides, happy to put as many walls as possible between them. Danny nods as well, standing up. Lydia motions toward the kitchen with her head before beginning to walk out. He and Danny follow, falling in step with each other while Jordan trails after them. It’s only when he gets out to the backyard that he realizes he forgot his coffee. 

“So,” Lydia starts as they sit down around the table in the yard. “Thoughts on the slightly more stylish Umbridge in there?”

“Thoughts? I could write a thesis on how much I already hate her,” Danny says with raised eyebrows. He drums his fingers on the table. “How did she and Derek happen? Derek seems to be, you know, sane. I don’t know how you could possibly date that woman and retain any sanity.”

“Well, we’ve all been in disaster relationships,” he says in a weak voice and shrugs. Lydia looks at him and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, but none of us decided to turn the disaster relationship into a disaster marriage,” she points out and Stiles just twists his mouth. She’s right; he can’t argue against that.

“Maybe she’s less… _whatever she is_ when she’s not in the middle of a murder spree,” Jordan offers, bumping his shoulder against Lydia’s. 

“I’d hope so,” Danny mutters and shudders. “Anyway, how did the thing with Mrs. Daehler go this morning?” 

“Surprisingly well,” Lydia tells him, a smile settling on her face. She pushes her hair back over her shoulder. “It seems like she doesn’t blame us for anything that happened and she seems to have made peace with it. She’s got a social life and everything.”

“Yeah. There weren’t any photos of Matt up, but still family photos so it looks like they’ve stuck together. She seems pretty proud of her other kids, Whitney and Clay, I think she said their names were,” he adds, staring down at the table. He’s feeling a little panicked. 

“It’s good that she moved on,” Danny remarks in a soft voice. Stiles nods. “And she did it in a way that still acknowledges what happened. I think a lot of us and a lot of the town tried to move on and forget about it, but that doesn’t work really. We could all take some pointers from her.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself again. 

“She also makes pretty good coffee,” Lydia comments, tapping her navy blue nails against the table.

“Definitely a priority in the recovery process,” Danny remarks and Stiles just snorts although Lydia is right. Mrs. Daehler did make pretty good coffee which was a refreshing change from the coffee his Dad makes. 

“Did you guys see her at the memorial thing?” he asks, deciding to swap subjects before this conversation delves too far into the never-ending tunnel of fatalistic humor which is practically his home at this point. 

“I wasn’t really looking if I’m honest, and I doubt I would have recognized her if I had. I was focussing more on keeping my internal sarcastic monologue internal,” Danny says and Stiles rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’d ask if you guys think she’d be at the rest of the events this week, but I’m not sure the memorial will even continue.”

“Well, it’s probably a security risk since two people were found dead at one of them so I wouldn’t expect them to hold more, but at the same time, the killer would probably show up at another one of them so it could be a way to pinpoint who’s responsible. It just depends on who’s in charge of the investigation, I guess,” Jordan tells them and Stiles just stares at him. It feels a bit too specific, but maybe it’s just part of basic training.

He needs to stop being paranoid about everyone.

“Would anyone even show up if they held another one? I think that’s the real question,” Lydia says, picking at her nail. 

“Of course they would, everyone loves controversy and danger. If it isn’t affecting them personally, it’s like it’s not real and it’s this fun thing to obsess over. Trust me, they’d show,” Danny says in a flat voice. Stiles nods alongside him, he’s right. It sucks, but he’s right. "There'd be at least five different people already in love with the killer. Matt would get so many love letters if he'd survived."

“Plus as annoying as Morrell is, she’s actually a pretty good talker. She is the kind of person people would show up to listen to,” Stiles adds, not wanting to even think about that possibility.

“Good point,” Lydia acknowledges and sits up straight. “It’s the only reason I agreed to go to Brunch with her today. I imagine she’s a pretty good conversationalist which would have made it bearable, I guess.”

Before anyone can reply, Stiles’ phone buzzes in his pocket and everyone stares at him. He rolls his eyes at him, but he knows that their worry is justified. He fishes his phone up from his pocket and unlocks it and then snorts. “Yeah, it’s just a text from Derek telling us we can come back in.”

“Ah,” Lydia says and smiles tightly. She stands up and smoothing out her skirt with tensed hands. “That was quick.”

“It would be far too cliché to say too quick so no one say it,” Danny teases, looking around at all of them. Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes himself up to his feet and heads toward the door.

“I wasn’t about to,” he tells Danny and motions for them all to follow him as he opens the door. It’s still creaky like it was when they were kids. “I mean, we were talking about something that’s far more interesting than us saying cliché horror movie stuff. Plus Airplane parodied that kind of things decades ago.”

“Since when were you a movie buff?” Lydia asks, walking behind him. He doesn’t have to turn around to know she’s rolling her eyes. 

“ _Everyone_ has seen Airplane, Lydia. It’s not like I’m referencing some obscure arthouse movie that only me and like one other person who is probably Morrell have seen,” he points out as he walks back into the living room where everyone is sat on the couches. Jennifer is wrapped around Derek like an octopus, but he looks like he hates seafood.

“Talking of Morrell, how pissed do you think she is that you skipped out on her meal?” Danny asks as they all walk in behind him, nudging Stiles. 

He glances around and decides to take an empty seat next to Cora who’s sitting as far away from Jennifer as possible. Lydia takes the one empty loveseat with Jordan in tow which leaves Danny the spare seat next to the not-so-loving company that no one else seems to want to take. Stiles wouldn’t blame Danny if he just sat on the floor instead. 

“It’d be completely unfounded if she was, considering her brother had already phoned ahead and canceled it,” Lydia tells him as she crosses one leg over the other and Jordan puts an arm around her. 

“Are you sure it was her brother?” Isaac cuts in. Stiles glances at him and he hasn’t seen Isaac this confused before. He looks almost scared.

“Yes, Isaac, I’m sure it was her brother,” Lydia says and rolls her eyes again. 

She does it so much Stiles can’t help but wonder if it’s just part of Lydia’s armor so she doesn’t feel vulnerable. Maybe it works the same was as fatalistic humor works for him.

“I mean, Deaton’s kind of dead so unless our lives have become so much of a horror movie that we now have zombies that take the time to politely cancel dinner plans via telephone, I doubt her brother canceled it,” Cora says and Stiles genuinely wonders if she’s right about it being this much of a movie when numerous heads, including his, turn to stare at her in sync. 

“Oh stop fussing everyone, it’s probably nothing. Morrell has so many underlings that something probably got confused. Or maybe the person who canceled it just pretended to be her brother to get it done quicker,” Mrs. Hale says and sighs. Stiles bites his lip, not wanting to be rude to her even though he feels that she’s being a little insensitive. “You know, none of you have eaten yet. Your empty stomachs are probably making you paranoid. I’m going to go pick up some food.”

“Mrs. Hale, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to go out right now,” Lydia says quickly, but she’s ignored as Mrs. Hale stands up and walks around the sofa to pick up her bag. 

“Nonsense, I’m going to go and pick up a few pizzas and we’re going to stop talking about murder for once,” Mrs. Hale says, already heading toward the door. 

“I’ll go with her,” Jordan says before anyone else can get a word in. There’s so much tension in the air that Stiles is glad Jordan’s taken the mantle of speaking rather than him. “Two people are better than one. Don’t worry, Lyds, we’ll be fine. I think we all need some pizza.”

“There’s a murderer on the loose,” Lydia says in a flat voice and glares at Jordan who just raises his eyebrows at her and rolls his own eyes. Lydia’s nostrils flare exactly three times before she huffs and looks away. “Fine. Go get your pizza that’s apparently more important than not being murdered by a crazed killer.”

Cora snorts beside him. “Are we going with just margarita or are we complicating it with different pizzas because only one of those is more important than being murdered?”

Mrs. Hale regards them all with a discontented look on her face for a second before sighing. “We’re just getting margarita. Come on Jordan, let's go before any of these children start arguing again.” 

And with that, she walks briskly out of the room with Jordan stumbling behind her. He sends Lydia an apologetic look over his shoulder which she deflects with a roll of her eyes.

“Well, that’s depressing,” Cora says as the front door slams with a bit too much force. 

Jennifer splutters from across the room and it’s the loudest splutter Stiles has ever heard. He looks toward her to see how angry she looks as she stares at Cora. “How insensitive can you get, you cruel witch?”

“Jennifer,” Derek says, glancing between his sister and his fiancée with a lot of worries painted on his face. 

Cora takes a deep breath and Stiles looks at her with terror on his face. “Hey uh hey Cora, you work in fitness, right?” he asks in a quiet voice, trying his hardest to distract her before someone ends up in hospital. They’ve already got a murderer running around town, they don’t need to do any extra murdering themselves.

“Yes,” Cora says shortly and Stiles nods. 

“So uh, you know the uh the fitness uh fitness video games? How do you feel about them? Are they any good?” he asks in a hurried voice, trying to get all the words out in an order that isn’t entirely jumbled. 

She looks at him with narrowed eyes. He licks his lips, hoping she isn’t about to claw his eyes out. He’d like to keep all of his body parts until at least next year. Her eyes widen a little and she nods. “They’re not bad. I’d prefer to get people in a gym with specialist equipment, but that’s not an option for everyone. As long as they’re exercising in a way that doesn’t harm their bodies, I guess it’s fine.”

“So if I were to work on a fitness video game, what would you expect it to include?” he questions, nodding along with her even though he’s completely aware that he won’t have a single clue what the fuck is going on within a couple of seconds. 

“More character customization,” Cora says immediately. Okay, maybe not. Maybe he will have a clue. He can talk character customization; it’s his favorite part of making games. “If all you can be is a bland-ass white dude, a pretty large demographic of the audience won’t feel as motivated to continue. If they can personalize it, they’ll get more invested in the game. As a personal trainer, the first thing you want to do is make everything personal to the client.”

He nods. That makes sense. “Okay, so what would be called excessive but really isn’t excessive character customization, I can do that. What else?”

Cora chews her lip for several seconds; Stiles can almost see the cogs whirring behind her eyes. “Well, I’d say more varied exercises. You know if you want to build muscle, you’ll do something completely different to trying to lose weight. Even with body-building, it depends on what you’re looking for. Exercising is a lot more varied than most people think. If you’re making a game about fitness, you need to be aware of that.”

“So how would you sort the exercise according to that?” he asks because he has literally no clue how different exercises work. Last time he properly exercised was high school.

“I can just email you some stuff about it if you want?” Cora offers, and he nods eagerly. That would be much more helpful. “Honestly, if you are making a fitness game, you should probably work with numerous personal trainers and gym instructors throughout the process.”

“That would be really useful,” he says and nods. She seems to have calmed down quite a bit. “If you ever feel like having a small vacation, you could always come up to New York and work with us?”

Cora smiles at him and he can see her eyes crinkle. “I might take you up on that offer once this _nightmare_ is over.”

“Please do,” he tells her and he can’t help the grin growing on his face. He’d always been close to Cora in high school. “If you can get me out of the current game I’m working on, I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll like buy you Paris or something.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Paris? In this economy? I think you might be suffering from some kind of delusions, Stiles.”

“Me? Deluded? I’m not the one in a long-term relationship with someone who wears scarves as an accessory,” he points out and Cora fake gasps.

“Don’t you dare compare him to Darren Aronofsky,” Cora tells him and he just rolls his eyes, trying to fight laughter. There’s a warm feeling spreading in his chest.

“Why? Black Swan is a great-” he starts, but he’s interrupted by a nudge to his side and Lydia’s voice.

“Danny seems to be having quite a bit of good luck with that police officer, don’t you think?” she asks, a smirk firmly placed on her lips. Stiles turns to look at Danny, but Lydia nudges him again. “Don’t make it obvious you’re staring.”

“What are we? High school students?” he asks under his breath since he already knows they won’t reply to it.

“They do seem to be getting on,” Cora says and Stiles has to agree. He hasn’t seen Danny smile like that in a long time. “Who would’ve thought that you could find love in this… situation?”

“You did,” Lydia points out and Cora nods. Her face twists into an unreadable expression and she glances over at her boyfriend who seems to be trying to help Derek calm down Jennifer who’s still crying.

“To be fair, we might be biased considering our current point of reference is _that_ ,” he says, motioning over to them with his head. He gets hums of agreement in response followed by an annoyed sigh from Cora as she stares straight at Derek’s fiancée. 

“I still don’t get it,” she says and huffs. She turns her head to look back at Danny and Ethan. “He’s not happy with her and that’s what you need in a relationship. Like look at those two; they look delighted to have the chance to talk. Derek doesn’t have that and I don’t get why he stays with her. Why are they getting married?”

“Trauma does a lot of things to a person’s head and, and he had it the worse,” Lydia says in a soft voice, the sadness creeping into it.

“I know,” Cora mutters, glaring at Jennifer again.

“Hey,” Ethan suddenly speaks, interrupting their depressing conversation. It seems to be a theme in their lives. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but my partner isn’t answering his radio. I’m going to go check on him. You can join if it would make you feel safe.”

Stiles bites his lip. Ethan seems so unsure and almost terrified. He guesses that none of the more recent officers expected to be dealing with anything like this while it’s dominated Stiles’ life for over ten years.

“I’d feel safer coming with you,” Lydia says in response and Stiles nods alongside her. One thing he’s learned over the years is to stick with the most qualified one.

“I would too,” Derek says, and Isaac voices his agreement a second later followed by Cora which, unfortunately, is followed by a Jennifer comment.

“No, you should stay here so you don’t cause your body any unnecessary strain. It’d be better for the baby,” she says and Cora tenses beside him. He can feel the anger rolling off of her. Derek sends her a desperate look and it hurts Stiles to see him look so tired. Cora sighs, but she nods.

“Okay,” Ethan says in an awkward tone, clearly being able to read the room. “So you two are staying and the rest are coming with. Okay. Come on then.”

Lydia practically drags him up and he stumbles after her, them bringing up the rear of the group. The tension in the house makes it feel unfamiliar compared to their teenage years which were carefree where the biggest problem was who would be prom queen instead of who’s next for the chopping block of a copycat killer. He remembers agonizing about what to buy Erica for Valentine’s Day and now he agonizes about how he could have saved her. Everything feels so foreign. 

The fresh air is a nice change for approximately a second before he realizes that there’s another car outside the house. He strains to look over Isaac’s shoulder to see Peter Hale and an unknown woman getting out of the car. A chill runs down his spine and he doesn’t even know why exactly. Peter isn’t creepy or anything, but he always gave off a weird vibe when he’d visit back when they were kids.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” Derek asks as he comes to an abrupt stop.

“We came to visit,” Peter says innocently, wrapping an arm around the woman who has an almost feral grin on his face. Stiles finds himself stepping back to get away from her. “This is Corinne.”

“Interesting time to visit,” Derek comments. Ethan regards the two visitors for a few moments before shaking his head and beginning to walk around to the back of the voice. Stiles hurries after him, far too aware of the two of them tailing the group.

If he thought seeing Peter was shocking, nothing could prepare him for what they see at the back.

After all the murders he’s witnessed, he’d have thought he’d be used to the smell of blood and sight of guts, but seeing Aiden strung up on the fence with his own intestines acting as ropes makes him want to wretch. 

He clenches his eyes shut and turns his head to the side, coughing. It’s horrible. 

“Ethan,” Danny says in a distant voice and Stiles sees him put his hand on the police officer’s shoulder out of the corner of his eye. He still can’t bring himself to look at Aiden again.

That image is already ingrained in his mind. 

Ethan coughs and shakes his head, turning around to look straight at Peter and his partner. “I’m arresting both of you on suspicion of murder.”

“Does he have probable cause?” Lydia whispers, looking at Stiles as if he’d know and as if he isn’t a few seconds away from going into shock.

“They appear seconds before he finds his twin brother tied to a fence by his intestines, I think he has probable cause,” Danny snaps in a surprisingly quiet voice and Stiles just nods. And then a scream sounds out from inside the house and Isaac is off like a goddamn shot. 

Stiles thinks that maybe Ethan tries to say something, but everyone is too busy running after Isaac to get back into the house. 

When he gets back into the living room, Jennifer is crying hysterically and blood is spurting from Isaac’s arm. Stiles stares.

“What happened?” Danny asks as Stiles searches for his own voice. 

“Where’s Cora?” Derek asks and he sounds terrified. Stiles feels himself shaking. This is all too much, he can’t do this all again.

No one speaks for several seconds before Peter says, “It’s like the Hale family is being halved again.”

 

**06/05/2006**   
_“Lydia, come on!” he yells, dragging her toward the door which is illuminated by the moonlight. They’re surrounded by other students running out of the pitch black dance hall._

_“B-but Jackson,” Lydia stutters, digging her heels in. He screws his eyes closed, trying to figure out how to get her out and away from the danger._

_“Is dead,” Allison interrupts and Stiles can feel her helping to drag Lydia. “I know you love him, Lydia, but he’s gone and he wouldn’t want you to die because of him. Come on, we have to get out of her.”_

_“It’s not fair,” Lydia murmurs, but she lets them drag her outside._

_“I know, I know,” he whispers to her as they get outside._

_“Allison!” Isaac calls and they stop, all three of them looking for him. Allison spots him first which Stiles finds out when he feels Lydia being dragged toward Isaac. He’s not alone, Cora and Derek are standing with him looking almost traumatized, and Danny who immediately hugs Lydia who retreats into his arms. Stiles lets go of her, staring blankly at the rest of them._

_“Where’s Malia?” Allison asks, her voice steady. Stiles blinks, not even realizing their group was missing someone._

_“I thought she’d be with you,” Cora says quietly. “We lost her in the crowd.”_

_Stiles sighs, blinking away tears. They can’t afford to lose anyone right now, they’ll be dead. They have to stick together._

_“I’m sure she’s fine,” Allison says, but even she sounds doubtful._

_“Derek! Cora!”_

_Stiles spins around, recognizing the voice. It’s Malia. She’s fine. She’s not dead. They haven’t lost someone else tonight. He grins at her as she runs towards them at full speed. She’ll be fine, she runs marathons._

_But then she stops and falls forward and Stiles just sees the arrow in her back before Lydia screams behind him._

 

_05:12 PM_  
“I’m sorry it took so long for you boys to be seen, it’s been hectic today,” Melissa says as she prepares to stitch up Isaac’s arm. Stiles glances at the needle, too aware of how sharp it is.

“Everything in our lives is hectic, don’t worry,” Isaac says in an almost bitter voice. He mostly sounds sad. 

“Has there been any more news about Cora?” Melissa asks softly and they both shake their heads, Stiles feeling the urge to wrap his arm around Isaac’s shoulders. He looks broken. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, that girl’s a fighter.”

“I know,” Isaac murmurs. 

“Now this is going to hurt,” she tells Isaac, standing up and bringing the small amount of medical equipment to him. “But after the day you’ve had, I’m not sure how much.”

Isaac snorts and lets Melissa maneuver his arm into a way that she can begin to stitch up his wound. Stiles is still a little fuzzy about what actually happened, but he refuses to push the issue. Too much has happened today. 

“Hey, you and Cora will have matching scars,” he points out, the words flying out of his mouth without much thought.

“You know those people who seem to know exactly what to say in every situation?” Isaac asks and Stiles nods. “You’re the complete opposite of that.”

The comments get a laugh out of Melissa and even Stiles has to smile at it. “Listen, I’ve been using fatalistic humor to deal with my trauma for a decade, I’ve lost all social skills if I had them in the first place.”

“If it works, it works,” Melissa tells him and Isaac grunts as the needle first goes into his arm. Stiles flinches himself, averting his gaze.

“How’s Scott?” he asks her, trying to distract himself from it. Maybe volunteering to go with Isaac might not have been the best idea, but he just really needed to get away. Plus not being around Jennifer is a positive. 

“He’s… doing better,” she says in an unsure voice. Stiles nods, knowing his Dad would probably react in the same way. “I don’t think he ever really recovered and he’s still refusing therapy. He has a lot of guilt and trauma from it and I think it’s all a little bit too much for him. But I think meeting Blair really helped him and I think having the twins to focus on is giving him a bit of a new life.”

“Who’s Blair?” Isaac questions and grunts again, signally the stitches again. Stiles still won’t look. 

“Oh right,” Melissa mutters and she looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds before continuing, “About four years ago, he met a girl, Blair. He was having a really difficult time before that and was job hopping and avoiding contact and it was a hard time for all of us. They got married two and a half years ago and nine months later, Alexander and Janessa were born. Scott’s been doing a lot better since. I think having the twins to focus on helping him to come to terms that just because his dreams of being a vet didn’t pan out doesn’t mean his life is over.”

“That’s good,” Stiles says, trying not to sound too shocked about the fact that Scott got married and has kids and Stiles just didn’t know. They used to tell each other _everything_.

Melissa nods. “I just wished he’d come home every once in a while.”

Before anyone can reply, the door opens and Theo walks in. Stiles sighs, really not wanting to deal with this bullshit now. This day seems to have gone on forever. 

“Officer Raeken,” Melissa greets and Stiles has never heard that much anger in her voice before. He’s never heard her not sound like a Mother really, but she sounds very upset and bitter. “What do you want? We’re clearly busy.”

“I’m here to take witness statements,” Theo snaps and Melissa just glares at him. It’s like watching two lions face off.

He’s only distracted from it when Isaac winces. He’d completely forgotten about the stitches.

“That can be done tomorrow,” Melissa says. 

“I need to take them today,” Theo insists, crossing his arms and widening his stance. He’s clearly trying to make himself look more intimidating than he is. 

He doesn’t need to do that, not really, Stiles can tell that there’s some charisma he could tap into if he really needed. A cruel type of charisma that’s probably ten times more charming than he could ever muster.

“Officer, I have two traumatized patients in my room right now, one who is currently being stitched up. It’s in my professional medical opinion that it would not be wise to take these statements now,” Melissa says in a curt voice, raising her chin. “Besides, it would be more effective to take them in a neutral zone to avoid any conflicts with memory. You still work on the basis of the cognitive interview, do you not? So unless you can give me a better reason for why this exact moment in time facilitates the need for the statements, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

There are a lot of words in that statement, but every word feels badass as fuck. It’s probably not what Stiles should be thinking about, but he never thinks about the right things at the right time. It’s probably a side effect of trauma or something. 

“The mayor has just been reported missing, Miss McCall,” Theo says, his voice tight and his facial expression almost pained. Melissa just shrugs. “We believe that the attack today may be related and would like to have a bigger picture by tonight to aid with our investigation.”

Melissa regards him for several agonizing seconds before she hums. “Well, you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. Your preliminary statements should be enough now.”

Theo stares at her, looking at her like she’s lost her mind. She doesn’t budge, just stares straight back. After what feels like forever of their staring match, he nods. “Sheriff Graeme wants all of the uh, the victims to congregate at Natalie Martin’s house tonight. She’ll be sending deputies around in the morning to take statements. Thank you.”

With that, he strides out of the room, slamming the door as he goes. Melissa rolls her eyes, “What’s his problem?”

Stiles shrugs and lets out a shocked laugh. God, he _hates_ this town and almost everyone who lives here. Every other second, he expects to walk into another horror movie trope or a serial killer... or both. He should have never come back, none of them should have.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Updates will probably be sporadic but I'll aim for like once a week or fortnight (if anyone is like even gonna read this)  
>  
> 
> come scream with me on [tumblr](https://cosmo-k-i-d.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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